Columbia  ®mber£ttp 
in  tfie  Cttp  of  Jleto  gorfe 

College  of  igJjpstrtang  anb  ^burgeomf 


Reference  Htbrarp 


AUGUSTUS  CHARLES  BERNAYS 

A  MEMOIR 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2010  with  funding  from 

Open  Knowledge  Commons 


http://www.archive.org/details/augustuscharlesbOObern 


AUGUSTUS  CHARLES  BERNAYS 


A  MEMOIR 


BY 

THEKLA  BERNAYS 


FAIRNESS  +  FEARLESSNESS  =  FORCE 

— A.  C.  Bernays 


ST.  LOUIS 

C.  V.  MOSBY  COMPANY 

1912 


Copyright,  1912,  by  C.  V.  Mosby  Company 


C.  V.  Mosby  Company 
St.  Louis 


TO  THE  LOYAL  BAND  OF  ASSISTANTS,  PUPILS, 
FELLOW-WORKERS,   AND   FRIENDS   OF 

AUGUSTUS  CHARLES  BERNAYS, 

AS  WELL  AS  TO  THOSE   OF   YOUNGER   GENERATIONS 

WHO  HOLD   DEAR   HIS   IDEALS, 

THIS    BRIEF  RECITAL   OF   HIS  ACTIVITY 

IS    INSCRIBED. 


The  triumph  of  evolution,  in  which  the  thought  of  ages  cul- 
minated, was  the  great  event  of  his  boyhood.  This  world- 
view,  eagerly  accepted  by  the  foremost  men  of  science,  but 
confirmed  his  intuition  of  kinship  with  all  living  beings,  and, 
suffusing  his  entire  mentality,  stimulated  him  to  his  significant 
researches  in  morphology.  The  crowning  glory,  however,  of 
his  short,  full  career,  notwithstanding  his  skill,  his  pioneership, 
and  his  achievement  in  surgery,  lies  in  his  having  not  only 
grasped,  but  lived,  the  spiritual  meaning  of  evolution  — 
brotherliness. 

Du  f iihrst  die  Reihe  der  Lebendigen 

Vor  mir  vorbei,  und  lehrst  mich  meine  Briider 

Im  stillen  Busch,  in  Luft,  und  Wasser  kennen. 

—  Goethe,  Faust  I. 


ACKNOWLEDGMENT. 

The  author  wishes  to  express  her  warmest  thanks 
to  the  many  faithful  friends  of  her  brother  who 
generously  and  unselfishly  lent  their  assistance  in 
the  delicate  and  difficult  task  of  writing  this  little 
story  of  his  life. 

To  Geheimrat  Max  Fiirbringer,  professor  of 
anatomy  at  the  University  of  Heidelberg,  she  is 
deeply  indebted  for  his  beautiful  tribute  to  the  friend 
of  his  youth,  which  constitutes  Chapter  V  of  the 
Memoir.  In  no  less  a  degree  her  gratitude  is  due  to 
Dr.  G.  G.  Cottam,  of  Sioux  Falls,  S.  D.,  who 
shunned  no  labor  to  search  out  and  arrange  in  chron- 
ological order  the  scattered  articles  and  pamphlets  of 
Dr.  Bernays  for  the  bibliography  appended  to  this 
volume. 

Dr.  Willard  Bartlett,  Dr.  C.  Barck,  Dr.  W.  W. 
Graves,  Dr.  Rothstein,  and  others  supplied  some  of 
the  incidents  and  anecdotes  narrated,  and  encour- 
aged the  writer  by  their  genuine  interest  and  sym- 
pathy. 

T.  B. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  I. 
Descent,  Birth,  Babyhood n 

CHAPTER  II. 
Childhood  in  St.  Louis  and  Lebanon 34 

CHAPTER  III. 
Influences  at  Lebanon 49 

CHAPTER  IV. 
Heidelberg  Days ,     .     64 

CHAPTER  V. 

An  Interlude  by  Professor  Max  Furbringer  ....     81 

CHAPTER  VI. 
Berlin,  Vienna,  London 94 

CHAPTER  VII. 
Prejudice   and   Superstition 104 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
Early  Success  —  Curious  Cases 113 


Contents 

CHAPTER  IX. 
Significant  Years 130 

CHAPTER  X. 
Dr.  Bernays'  Daring 146 

CHAPTER  XI. 
Dr.  Bernays'  Views  on  Fees 167 

CHAPTER  XII. 
Dr.  Bernays  a  Teacher 184 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
Dr.  Bernays  on  the  Turf 200 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
Dr.  Bernays'  Temperament 218 

CHAPTER  XV. 
Dr.  Bernays  at  Home 235 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
Some  Habits  and  Traits 250 

CHAPTER    XVII. 
The  Years  1900-1904 263 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
Last  Years 282 

BIBLIOGRAPHY. 
List  of  Dr.  Bernays'  Publications 301 


AUGUSTUS  CHARLES  BERNAYS 

A  MEMOIR 


CHAPTER  I 

DESCENT,  BIRTH,  BABYHOOD 

A  name,  though  it  be  but  a  superficial  matter,  yet  carrieth 
much  impression  and  enchantment. —  Lord  Bacon. 
In  children  a  great  curiousness  is  well, 
Who  have  themselves  to  learn  and  all  the  world. 

—  Tennyson. 

On  the  paternal  side  Augustus  Charles  Bernays 
was  descended  from  a  Hebrew  family  of  consider- 
able distinction.  At  least  such  distinction  belongs  to 
the  family  as  may  be  verified  by  him  who  will  take 
the  trouble  to  look  up  the  name  in  British,  Ameri- 
can, German,  and  Jewish  encyclopedias.  The 
family,  ranging  from  a  tiny  town  in  Hesse-Darm- 
stadt outward  over  all  the  countries  of  Europe, 
settling  in  four  of  the  five  continents  of  our  globe, 
has  gathered  force  and  volume  in  a  rather  aston- 
ishing degree,  considering  that  it  is  not  much  more 

ii 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

than  a  hundred  years  since  two  rabbis  —  brothers 
—  in  Mayence  on  the  Rhine  concocted  and  adopted 
the  name.  These  two,  our  great-grandfather  and 
great-granduncle,  traced  their  descent  through  a 
long  line  of  rabbis  centuries  back.  Pious  Israel- 
ites, I  have  been  told,  still  carry  a  picture  of  one  of 
our  remote  ancestors  pasted  inside  the  covers  of  their 
prayer  books  because  the  prototype  of  the  image  at 
the  time  of  the  Crusades,  by  extraordinary  courage 
and  sagacity,  protected  his  flock  when  fanatic  Chris- 
tians threatened  violence,  in  one  of  the  periodic 
rages  that  seized  them,  against  the  race  who  gave 
them  their  gods,  their  form  of  worship,  and  their 
rule  of  conduct. 

Previous  to  the  advent  of  Napoleon,  Jews  on  the 
Rhine  had  been  known  only  by  their  given  names, 
to  which,  for  purposes  of  identification,  the  name 
of  the  town  whence  they  hailed  was  added.  Thus 
our  great-great-grandfather  was  called  Baer  Xeu- 
stadtel —  Xeustadtel  being  a  small  Hessian  village 
near  Mayence.  Napoleon  decreed  that  the  Jews 
adopt  family  names.  So,  in  memory  of  their  father, 
Baer  Xeustadtel,  our  great-grandfather,  and  his 
brother,  by  dropping  the  latter  part  of  the  town's 
name  and  by  running  the  remaining  syllables  to- 
gether —  Baerneus  —  then  changing  the  orthog- 
raphy to  the  French,  Bernays,  created  the  name. 

12 


Descent,  Birth,  Babyhood 

From  these  two  men,  Jacob  and  Isaac  Bernays, 
have  sprung  all  the  Bernayses  of  Germany,  those 
in  England  and  its  dependencies  and  colonies  — 
Canada,  Australia,  India  —  those  in  Belgium,  Aus- 
tria, and  Russia,  and  those  in  the  United  States. 
A  virile  and  a  versatile  tribe,  their  activities  have 
been  scientific,  educational,  philosophical,  philo- 
logical, journalistic,  political,  literary,  and,  in  a  few 
instances,  commercial  —  the  latter  never  with  not- 
able success  if  success  means  the  accumulation  of 
vast  wealth. 

Some  remained  in  the  fold  of  Israel  as  orthodox, 
convinced  Jews ;  others  belong  to  the  later,  the  "  re- 
formed," Judaism.  Some  are  orthodox  Christians, 
and  some  have  indeed  become  men  of  importance  in 
the  Anglican  church.  Those  who  made  England 
their  home  intermarried  with  Anglo-Saxons  until 
in  the  third  and  fourth  generation  the  racial  type 
of  Judea  is  disappearing.  A  Bernays  was  Epis- 
copal bishop  of  Calcutta,  and  one  branch  of  our 
family  owns  the  living  at  Great  Stanmore,  Middle- 
sex, England.  Other  men  of  note  in  Great  Britain 
of  our  name  were  Albert  Bernays,  a  brilliant  and 
versatile  man,  professor  of  chemistry  for  many 
years  at  St.  Thomas'  Hospital,  London,  author  of 
many  chemical  works ;  Edwin  Arthur  Bernays,  long 
in  the  service  of  the  Admiralty  as  a  civil  engineer 

13 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

and  builder  of  the  Chatham  docks ;  Leopold  Bernays, 
first  incumbent  of  Great  Stanmore,  who  at  the  age 
of  nineteen  made  the  first  translation  of  the  second 
part  of  Goethe's  Faust  into  English;  Lewis  Adol- 
phus  Bernays,  who  early  emigrated  and  was  for 
forty  years  clerk  of  the  Parliament  of  Queensland, 
Australia,  and  distinguished  himself  by  his  work  in 
botany  and  horticulture. 

In  Germany  the  great  Hakkam  of  Hamburg, 
Isaac  Bernays,  is  held  in  pious  remembrance  by  all 
good  Jews  for  the  wonderful  service  he  rendered  his 
race  by  broadening  their  educational  system  and 
by  introducing  the  sermon  in  German  into  the  syna- 
gogue in  order  to  bring  his  flock  into  closer  touch 
with  the  people  among  whom  they  lived.  He  it 
was  who,  together  with  other  wise  Israelites,  was 
consulted  by  Napoleon  in  regard  to  legislation  for 
his  race  in  the  famous  code  that  bears  the  usurper's 
name.  His  two  sons,  Jacob  and  Michael  Bernays, 
are  known  to  students  the  world  over  —  the  former 
for  his  philological  and  philosophical  writings  on 
the  ancient  classics,  the  latter  for  his  significant 
work  on  the  clarifying  of  the  text  of  such  modern 
writers  as  Goethe,  Schiller,  and  Shakespeare. 

A  most  remarkable  German  novel  on  Jewish  fam- 
ily life,  "  Schief-Levinche,  oder  Polnische  Wirth- 
schaft,"  was  written  by  another  Isaac  Bernays,  of 

14 


Descent,  Birth,  Babyhood 

Hamburg,  about  the  middle  of  the  last  century.  It 
is  even  now  reprinted  from  time  to  time,  and  ranks 
second  only  to  Heine's  gripping  fragment,  "  Der 
Rabbi  von  Bacharach,"  in  its  poignant  tragi-comic 
appeal. 

Others  of  the  name  who  have  lived  noteworthy 
lives  are  Heinrich  Bernays,  for  years  prosecuting 
attorney  of  the  Reichsland  at  Colmar,  Alsatia,  au- 
thor of  legal  and  historic  works;  Guillaume  Ber- 
nays, likewise  a  brilliant  lawyer  and  historian,  of 
Antwerp  in  Belgium,  who  was  so  strangely  and 
foully  murdered  at  Brussels  by  the  brothers  Preller 
in  1872. 

Younger  talent  is  helping,  I  am  told,  to  keep  the 
lamp  of  science  and  scholarship  trimmed  by  good 
work  in  German  and  English  universities,  adding 
new  luster  all  the  time  to  our  name.  So  that,  if  the 
history  of  our  family  were  written,  it  would  go  to 
corroborate  Galton  and  the  men  of  his  school  in  the 
proof  they  are  bringing  "that,  in  the  determination 
of  character,  nature  is  of  greater  significance  than 
nurture  —  that  the  strength  of  the  stone  depends 
primarily  on  the  quarry  from  which  it  came,  not 
upon  the  height  to  which  it  is  polished,  nor  upon  the 
elegance  of  the  colonnade  into  which  it  is  built." 

What  has  impressed  and  touched  my  brother  and 
myself  more  than  the  intellectual  prowess  of  our 

15 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

tribe  is  that,  now  and  then,  in  far-away  places  where 
we  traveled,  we  met  persons  who  showed  the  strong- 
est emotion  at  mention  of  our  name,  and  told  of 
having  met  relatives  of  ours,  unknown  to  us,  of  a 
high  sense  of  honor  and  responsibility  and  of  ex- 
ceeding generosity. 

To  come  now  to  the  particular  branch  of  the 
Bernays  family  from  which  sprang  the  subject  of 
this  memoir,  our  grandfather,  Clemens  Bernays, 
was  one  of  the  many  sons  of  Jacob  Bernays,  of 
Mayence.  Great-grandfather  was  liberal  in  his 
views.  Close  friendship  united  him  with  the  Prince- 
Bishop  of  Mayence,  who  bestowed  upon  his  Jewish 
friend's  many  sons  an  array  of  names,  than  which 
nothing  could  have  been  more  Christian  —  Lucian, 
Emanuel,  Clemens,  Pius,  Christian,  etc.  These 
grew  up  with  the  breath  of  the  French  Revolution 
in  their  nostrils  and  the  longing  for  liberty  in  their 
blood.  Clemens,  our  grandfather,  married  the  di- 
vorced wife  of  a  Jewish  rabbi,  Therese  Ehlinger, 
nee  Creizenach  (a  family  likewise  noted  for  scholar- 
ship —  having  produced  Orientalists  and  historians 
of  note).  Grandmother  had  also  chafed  under  the 
rigidity  of  the  ancient  law,  and  is  said  to  have  de- 
liberately forced  her  first  husband,  the  rabbi,  to  di- 
vorce her  for  conduct  unbecoming  a  Jewish  woman. 
Every  day,  the  story  goes,   she  seated  herself   in 

16 


Descent,  Birth,  Babyhood 

the  most  conspicuous  window  of  the  dwelling  in 
Frankfort  on  the  Main,  where  she  then  lived,  with 
long  hair  unbound  and  hanging  luxuriantly  over 
her  shoulders  —  a  most  heinous  offense  in  a  rabbi's 
wife,  at  a  time  when  all  married  women  in  Judea 
went  shorn  and  cowled.  She  obtained  her  liberty 
from  the  unloved  husband  by  this  insubordination 
to  the  law,  and  afterward  married  our  grandfather, 
to  whom  she  bore  six  sons  and  two  daughters.  I 
fancy  it  was  her  very  intrepidity  and  originality  of 
action  which  attracted  our  grandfather,  who  was 
himself  of  an  imperious,  vivacious  nature,  a  free- 
thinker, restless  under  the  tyranny  of  moribund 
laws  and  conventions.  He,  as  well  as  rebellious 
grandmother,  did  not,  however,  formally  abandon 
the  old  faith.  They  lie  at  rest  in  the  Jewish  ceme- 
tery at  Frankenthal,  but  they  doubtless  felt,  as 
Heine  afterward  expressed  it,  that  "  Judaism  is  not 
a  religion,  but  a  calamity,"  which  evidently  they 
desired  their  progeny  to  escape.  Consequently  all 
their  children  were  christened  in  the  Lutheran  faith 
and  therein  confirmed,  but  they  grew  up  none  the 
less  free-thinkers,  outwardly  conforming,  as  they 
were  obliged  to  do,  to  the  conventions  of  Protestant- 
ism, but  inwardly  unconvinced.  Grandfather  was 
so  liberal,  or  perhaps  so  indifferent,  that  when  he 
resided  in  the  small  Catholic  town  of  Oggersheim, 

17 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

his  children  attended  Catholic  schools,  and  he  per- 
mitted Charles  Louis,  his  second  son,  who  had  a 
fine  soprano  voice,  to  serve  mass  at  the  Catholic 
church  from  his  ninth  to  his  thirteenth  year,  sing- 
ing each  Sunday,  " Domine  safoum  fac  regem"  as  I 
have  often  heard  uncle  smilingly  tell. 

Our  father  was  the  sixth  son  of  his  parents,  and 
but  eleven  years  old  when  grandfather  died.  Much 
of  the  family  fortune  acquired  in  the  grain  com- 
mission business  by  grandfather  had  been  spent  be- 
fore our  father  came  to  man's  estate,  and  he  was 
obliged  to  earn  most  of  the  funds  needed  for  his 
medical  studies.  This  he  accomplished  by  first  be- 
coming a  pharmacist  and  earning  his  living  as  a 
pharmacist's  assistant,  afterward,  when  studying  in 
England,  eking  out  his  scant  means  by  giving  in- 
struction in  French  and  German. 

On  the  mother's  side  there  is  French  Huguenot 
blood  and  German.  Great-grandfather  Seris  Ber- 
trand,  when  he  emigrated  from  his  native  Provence 
to  the  region  known  as  the  Taunus  in  Germany, 
could  speak  nothing  but  French,  nor  ever  learned 
to  use  the  language  of  his  adopted  land  other  than 
brokenly.  This  did  not,  however,  deter  him  from 
wooing  and  winning  a  German  maiden,  Ernestine 
Minnigerode,  who  gave  him  four  daughters  and 
two  sons.     Our  grandmother  Louise  was  the  eldest 

18 


Descent,  Birth,  Babyhood 

child,  and  at  the  age  of  seventeen  married  a  hand- 
some and  wealthy  ironmaster  of  Westphalia,  Fried- 
rich  Doring.  But  grandfather  Doring  was  a  poor 
manager  —  some  have  said  a  spendthrift.  He  ran 
through  his  fortune,  at  last  leaving  his  wife  and  chil- 
dren —  seven  in  number  —  to  be  brought  up  by  the 
Bertrands.  Our  mother,  Minna  Doring,  was  his 
youngest  child.  She,  like  her  elder  sisters,  was 
carefully  prepared  to  go  to  England  as  a  govern- 
ess. She  was  privately  instructed  by  her  mother 
and  her  aunts,  charming  and  accomplished  women, 
whose  letters  are  even  now  a  delight  to  read.  One 
of  grandmother's  sisters,  Frau  Amalie  Prinz,  of 
Neuwied,  was  indeed,  from  all  accounts  and  rec- 
ords, a  truly  exceptional  woman.  Our  mother  was 
indebted  to  her  for  generous  help  during  her  bring- 
ing up,  and  turned  to  her  for  advice  and  sympathy 
as  long  as  grandaunt  Amalie  lived. 

Our  parents  met  at  Langenschwalbach,  where 
granduncle  Fritz  Bertrand  was  the  incumbent  of 
one  of  the  three  pharmacies  our  great-grandfather 
had  established  in  the  Taunus  country.  The  old 
Frenchman,  our  ancestor,  must  have  been  clever  as 
well  as  industrious  and  energetic,  coming  as  an  im- 
pecunious boy  into  a  strange  land  and  acquiring 
so  considerable  a  fortune  as  three  pharmacies  then 
represented.     The  "  Apotheken  "  in  Germany  were 

19 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

then,  as  they  still  are,  concessions  from  the  govern- 
ment, so  that,  competition  not  being  excessive,  they 
are,  if  well  conducted,  lucrative. 

Granduncle  Fritz'  wife  was  a  Frenchwoman, 
grandaunt  Emilie,  nee  Praule,  from  all  accounts  a 
woman  of  culture  and  spirit  and  much  intellectual 
charm.  Our  mother  was  indebted  to  her  for  her 
proficiency  in  French,  acquired  in  long  visits  to  the 
"  Apotheke,"  where  French  was  the  language  of 
the  house. 

For  a  year  our  father,  George  Bernays,  was 
"  Gehilfe "  (assistant)  to  uncle  Fritz,  and  seems 
to  have  lost  no  time  in  making  love  to  his  em- 
ployer's pretty  niece.  When  she  left  her  native 
country  to  take  a  position  in  a  girl's  school  at  St. 
Mary's  Hall,  Brighton,  where  two  of  her  elder  sis- 
ters were  already  teaching,  she  was  not  formally 
betrothed,  but  there  was  an  understanding  between 
her  and  George  Bernays  that  they  would  soon  again 
meet  in  England. 

Our  father  promptly  completed  his  medical 
studies  in  St.  Thomas'  Hospital,  England,  and,  with 
the  promise  from  Minna  Doring  that  she  would 
become  his  wife  as  soon  as  he  had  made  a  home 
for  her  in  the  United  States,  he  departed  for  that 
country.  In  Highland,  Madison  County,  Illinois, 
his  elder  brother,  Charles  Louis,  had  been  settled 

20 


Descent,  Birth,  Babyhood 

for  several  years,  and  it  was  there  he  at  first  located, 
and  in  a  year's  time  had  prepared  a  tiny  home  for 
his  bride. 

Our  mother,  accompanied  by  her  brother  Henry, 
a  pharmacist  trained  in  the  Langenschwalbach 
"  Apotheke,"  arrived  in  the  United  States  in  the 
late  autumn  of  1853,  and  on  the  fifth  of  November 
—  Guy  Fawkes  Day  they  always  called  it  —  our 
parents  were  married  in  St.  Louis  at  the  house  of 
Henry  Bornstein,  the  well-known  journalist  and 
theatrical  manager.  Immediately  after  the  wed- 
ding breakfast  the  young  couple,  accompanied  by 
Mrs.  Bornstein,  entered  a  carriage  and  drove  to  their 
new  home  in  Highland,  a  tiny  dovecote  covered 
with  climbers.  Uncle  Charles  and  his  wife,  whom 
we  always  called  aunt  Pepi  —  using  the  Austrian 
abbreviation  for  her  name,  Josephine  —  cordially  re- 
ceived the  bride  and  loyally  stood  by  her  in  the 
trials  and  vicissitudes  that  were  soon  to  come  to 
her  in  the  mere  protoplasm  of  a  community  that 
Highland  then  was. 

On  October  13,  1854,  the  subject  of  this  sketch, 
Augustus  Charles  Bernays,  was  born  in  the  little 
vine-covered  cottage  at  Highland.  The  terrible 
suffering  and  anxiety  for  her  husband  which  came 
to  the  young  mother  immediately  after  the  birth  of 
her  baby  are  described  in  a  letter  of  her  own  dated 

21 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

December  30,  1854,  and  addressed  to  aunt  Amalie, 
of  Neuwied.     The  young  mother  wrote : 

The  very  first  day  my  heart  feels  a  little  lighter  I  want 
to  tell  you  something  of  our  fortunes  during  the  past  months. 
There  will,  alas,  be  little  to  relate  except  a  long  story  of  pain 
and  heartache.  Verily  I  should  not  have  believed  that  after 
such  dreadful  suffering  and  anxiety  one  could  have  the  courage 
to  live  on.  George  has  had  typhoid  fever  and  for  many,  many 
days  was  not  expected  to  live,  and,  after  the  crisis  was  over 
and  his  life  no  longer  hung  in  the  balance,  we  were  for  two 
days  and  two  nights  in  the  most  horrible  fear  that  he  had 
lost  his  mind.  Even  as  I  write  these  words  I  shudder  at 
what  they  imply.  Oh,  dear  aunt,  I  can  not  find  words  for 
what  I  felt,  but  I  believe  you  can  imagine  what  I  suffered. 
Truly,  human  beings  can  bear  much.  I  know  I  did  not  show 
courage  in  those  terrible  days,  but,  indeed,  I  wonder  that  I 
lived  through  them  at  all.  Even  now  that  he  is  better  and  his 
reason  has  returned  —  but  for  isolated  attacks  —  I  dare  not 
be  joyful ;  I  mean  I  can  not  give  myself  up  to  gladness  as  I 
should  like  to.  My  poor  darling  little  son,  too,  survived  all 
that  agony,  and  does  not  even  seem  much  the  worse  for  the 
misery  of  his  parents.  At  the  very  saddest  time,  strange  to 
say,  he  began  to  smile.  Sometimes,  when  I  sat  a  moment 
by  his  cradle  and  the  child  smiled  at  me  so  sweetly,  while 
George  in  the  adjoining  room  was  raving  in  wildest  delirium, 
I  felt  as  if  my  heart  were  breaking.  When  George  began 
to  be  ill,  you  see,  I  was  still  too  weak  to  walk,  for  I  had 
to  keep  my  bed  after  my  confinement  for  eight  weeks.  Some- 
thing, it  seems,  had  gone  wrong,  which,  the  doctors  said, 
would  adjust  itself  by  rest  in  bed.  So,  when  I  first  tried 
to  get  up,  my  legs  had  grown  so  weak  I  could  neither  stand 
upon  my  feet  nor  walk.  I  am  much  better  now;  still,  I  can 
not  stand  up  for  long,  nor  walk  fast,  but  I  am  sure  I  shall 

22 


Descent,  Birth,  Babyhood 

soon  be  entirely  well.  I  often  wonder  what  would  have  hap- 
pened had  we  lived  alone  —  I  mean  without  relatives  near  by 
—  in  some  American  town.  Charles  Louis  has  been  most 
faithful  and  devoted.  He  and  Jacob  (another  of  the  Bernays 
brothers  who  had  arrived  in  Highland  in  the  fall  of  that  year) 
were  with  George  alternately  night  and  day  —  during  the  worst 
time,  both  of  them.  This  is  the  first  night  I  shall  be  alone  — 
I  mean  without  either  of  the  brothers  —  with  George.  The 
maid  sleeps  in  the  adjoining  room,  however,  and  helps  me 
wait  on  him  and  the  baby.  In  his  illness  George  liked  best 
to  have  his  brother  Charles  Louis  with  him.  He  asked  for 
him  constantly,  which  I  thought  most  natural,  for  I,  too,  felt 
heartened  when  he  but  entered  the  room,  just  as  your  entrance 
used  to  give  me  courage  when  mother  was  ill  in  the  old  days 
at  home.  Pepi  and  Malchen  (Jacob's  wife)  helped  take  care 
of  the  baby  while  I  was  still  unable  to  walk. 

January  2d.  I  have  not  had  time  to  resume  writing  till 
today.  George  and  the  baby  keep  me  busy  all  day,  and  at 
night  I  am  dead  tired.  The  unrest  of  the  past  weeks  has 
kept  me  from  getting  back  my  strength,  but  at  last  I  think 
we  are  really  on  the  road  to  convalescence.  George  is  out 
of  bed  nearly  all  day,  but  still  very,  very  weak,  nervously 
irritated  and  frightfully  emaciated.  He  keeps  me  in  hot  water 
a  good  deal  because  he  refuses  to  be  careful  of  himself.  He 
even  went  to  the  drug  store  today  to  help  Henry,  and  he  is 
very  much  the  worse  this  evening  for  that  indiscretion.  Be- 
fore he  was  ill,  too,  he  never  would  take  the  slightest  care 
of  his  health.  He  was  just  hustling  and  working  himself 
into  a  fever  all  the  time  —  it  made  one  ill  to  see  him.  I  wish 
you  would  read  him  a  good  lecture  some  time  on  this  subject. 
How  glad  I  shall  be,  once  everything  is  all  right  with  us 
again.  Our  little  boy  is  so  sweet,  and  we  have  hardly  had 
a  chance  to  enjoy  him.  He  will  soon  be  three  months  old. 
When  he  was  born  he  was  a  wee  mite  of  a  creature,  but  he 
has   grown   quite   a   little,   and   he   chatters    (in   his   own   Ian- 

23 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

guage)  and  laughs  all  the  time.  You  can  hardly  conceive  of  the 
revolution  the  coming  of  the  little  one  has  brought  about  in 
our  household.  You  just  ought  to  see  the  living-room,  with 
what  a  lot  of  heterogeneous  articles  it  is  crowded.  The  little 
fellow  behaves  very  well,  and  hardly  ever  cries.  Often  he 
lies  awake  in  his  cradle  for  hours,  laughing  and  crowing  and 
playing  with  his  hands.  You  are  quite  right  in  thinking  that 
I  have  changed  somewhat  since  the  baby  came.  The  child  is 
my  one  joy,  my  entire  happiness.  All  the  many  different 
desires  I  used  to  have  are  swallowed  up  by  the  one  that  the 
little  one  may  live  and  thrive.  Of  going  back  to  Europe  I 
never  think  now.  I  should  be  quite  satisfied  to  remain  always 
in  America.  Only  I  do  wish  you  and  mother  and  all  the  rest 
of  the  dear  ones  in  Germany  could  see  our  little  boy. 

The  little  boy  did  live  and  thrive,  and  was  in 
his  parents'  eyes  —  as  is  the  traditional  and  unal- 
terable right  and  privilege  of  all  babies,  especially 
the  first-born  —  the  dearest,  and  prettiest,  and 
cleverest  of  babies.  On  the  authority  of  his  parents 
as  well  as  that  of  more  remote  relations,  it  is  here 
somewhat  hesitatingly  related  that  he  began  to  talk 
—  real  words  —  when  he  was  but  eight  months 
old.  My  father  told  me  that  little  August,  from 
the  first,  employed  the  article  together  with  the 
noun,  quite  at  variance  with  the  usages  current  in 
ordinary  babydom.  He  was  taught  German  first, 
and  so  said,  "  die  Kuh,"  "  das  Pferd,"  instead  of 
merely,  "  Kuh,"  "Pferd."  Likewise  —  and  that 
statement  comes  from  old  Highland  people  not  re- 

24 


Descent,  Birth,  Babyhood 

lated  —  he  pronounced  entire  sentences,  and  very 
accurately,  when  not  more  than  eighteen  months 
old,  a  tiny  mite  of  a  youngster  just  able  to  toddle. 
From  the  time  he  was  able  to  think  —  and  with  him 
something  like  thought  began  in  the  cradle  —  he 
was  full  of  mischievous  pranks  and  devices.  He 
soon  learned  what  little  needs  of  his  would  bring 
mamma  to  him  at  once,  and  before  he  could  stand 
on  his  feet  would  often  make  her  come  in  vain 
and  then  laugh  at  her,  full  of  joy  in  the  success 
of  his  ruse. 

In  the  lives  of  most  people  of  importance  there 
is  a  gypsy  prophecy  which  tallies  —  or  is  made 
to  tally,  willy-nilly — with  after-events.  So  there 
might  be  with  regard  to  the  subject  of  this  memoir, 
could  the  stiff-necked  memory  of  the  recorder  be 
made  to  yield  a  trifle  to  the  love  of  the  supernatural. 
My  father  was  wont  to  tell  how,  returning  one 
evening  at  dusk  to  his  little  cottage  in  Highland 
after  it  had  come  to  hold  a  second  baby  (the  writer 
of  these  pages),  he  saw  an  old  gypsy  woman  stand- 
ing in  an  imperious  pose  on  the  steps  of  the  porch, 
where  his  frightened  wife  sat  in  a  rocking-chair, 
having  gathered  both  her  little  ones  into  her  lap. 
Pointing  to  August  with  a  bony  brown  finger,  the 
gypsy  was  saying,  "  He  shall  be  a  wanderer  over 
all  the  lands   of  the   earth;   he   shall   be   a   great 

25 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

rogue  among  women."  Here  my  father,  incensed 
at  the  fright  the  old  hag  was  giving  his  wife, 
roughly  ordered  her  off  the  premises.  She  went, 
but  in  going  turned  to  hurl  curses  and  prophecies 
of  evil  at  the  tiny  baby  in  its  mother's  arms.  My 
father  never  would  tell  the*  exact  nature  of  these 
imprecations  against  me.  Whatever  they  were, 
they  do  not  seem  to  have  been  verified  any  more 
than  the  fate  she  foretold  for  August. 

In  letters  of  a  later  date,  up  to  the  time  he  was 
five  years  old,  August  is  always  referred  to  as 
"  wild,"  as  well  as  extraordinarily  quick  and  bright. 
Small  and  slight,  with  very  little  hands  and  feet, 
he  is  described  as  of  alarming  activity  and  curiosity. 
Unconcern  for  dignity  and  disregard  of  authority 
were  early  misdemeanors.  Aunt  Amalie,  with  her 
huge  common  sense  and  appreciation  of  the  humor- 
ous, enjoyed,  as  she  tells  in  one  of  her  letters,  see- 
ing the  wee  boy  approach  all  kinds  of  "  Respects- 
personen "  (dignitaries)  on  a  perfect  footing  of 
equality.  He  made  them  stand  and  deliver  answers 
to  his  questions  with  a  self-possessed  directness 
and  cool  insistence  to  which  these  high  and  mighties 
were  by  no  means  accustomed. 

Aunt  Amalie  made  acquaintance  with  her  little 
grandnephew  and  niece  sooner  than  was  anticipated. 
When  August  was  but  two  years  and  I  but  a  few 

26 


Descent,  Birth,  Babyhood 

months  old  a  violent  epidemic  of  whooping-cough 
was  decimating  the  babies  of  Highland.  When  my 
life  was  despaired  of,  only  an  ocean  voyage  hold- 
ing out  a  forlorn  hope  of  saving  me,  my  father  pre- 
cipitately resolved  to  abandon  his  home  in  High- 
land and  his  practice  in  order  to  give  his  child 
the  one  chance  of  life.  It  seems  that  a  few  whiffs 
of  ocean  air  did  instantly  ameliorate  our  condition, 
and  when  we  landed  at  Bremen  my  father  knew 
that  his  babies  were  safe.  August  had  fully  re- 
covered almost  on  embarking,  and  was  able  to  fur- 
nish the  passengers  of  the  steamer  with  some  amus- 
ing interruptions  to  the  monotony  of  the  trip.  My 
mother  had  a  little  story  of  this  voyage  she  used  to 
tell,  with  an  arching  of  her  fine  brows  and  a  re- 
pressed smile,  on  occasions  when  she  wished  to  rep- 
rimand August  for  lack  of  consideration  at  table. 
In  those  patriarchal  days  steamers  were  less  sump- 
tuously appointed  and  the  company  less  fastidious 
than  now,  so  that  on  promise  of  good  behavior 
little  August  was  allowed  to  dine  at  the  table  with 
the  grown-ups.  He  was  "  good  "  for  a  day  or  two, 
and  spoke  only  when  addressed.  But  one  day,  see- 
ing a  large  dish  of  asparagus  being  brought  in,  he 
forgot  promises  and  manners,  and  with  big,  shin- 
ing eyes,  in  his  high,  clear  voice  sang  out,  "  Der 
Bub  mocht'  alle  Spargelkopfe  haben  "  ("The  boy" 

27 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

—  so  he  called  himself  — "  would  like  to  have  all 
the  tips  of  the  asparagus").  Our  mother  did  not 
live  to  cure  him,  nor  did  aught  else  subsequently 
cure  him,  of  the  desire  for  a  lion's  share  of  the 
best  that  was  to  be  had.  It  is  only  fair,  however, 
to  say  that  when  in  after-life  he  got  the  "  tips  of 
the  asparagus,"  as  he  frequently  did,  he  very  gen- 
erously shared  them  with  others. 

My  father,  finding  himself  on  the  other  side  of 
the  Atlantic,  determined  to  remain  for  some  time 
and  perfect  himself  in  certain  specialties  of  his  pro- 
fession in  order  to  be  more  thoroughly  equipped  for 
practice  in  the  city  of  St.  Louis,  on  which  he  in- 
tended to  enter  on  his  return  to  the  United  States. 
He  established  a  modest  little  home  for  his  family 
in  Wurzburg,  while  our  mother  with  the  babies 
was  visiting  aunt  Amalie  Prinz  in  Neuwied.  With 
Scanzoni,  Bamberger,  and  others  he  studied  up-to- 
date  gynecology  and  obstetrics  for  several  semesters, 
repairing  to  Berlin  later  to  take  a  course  in  oph- 
thalmology with  von  Grafe. 

In  Wurzburg  a  third  child,  another  son,  Clemens, 
was  born,  leaving  our  mother  in  a  rather  delicate 
state  of  health,  a  thing  not  to  be  wondered  at. 
Three  babies  in  four  years,  slender  means,  and  a 
future  by  no  means  safeguarded  could  scarcely 
invigorate  the  never  robust,  nervous  system  of  the 

28 


Descent,  Birth,  Babyhood 

young  mother.  So,  when  my  father  in  1859  was 
ready  for  the  hazard  of  establishing  himself  in  St. 
Louis,  he  thought  best  to  leave  his  wife  and  babies 
for  a  time  in  the  care  of  her  mother  in  Ladenburg, 
a  tiny  town  near  Heidelberg,  where  grandmother 
Doring's  sister  Charlotte  was  married  to  the  Prot- 
estant clergyman  of  the  place,  Pfarrer  Carl  Joseph. 
My  mother's  eldest  sister,  Louise,  had  joined  our 
family  at  Wiirzburg  after  the  birth  of  Clemens. 
She  became  our  "  Tantele  "  (little  aunt),  and  re- 
mained a  member  of  our  household  until  her  death 
in  Zurich  in  1898. 

The  wee  tots  thrived  in  the  pretty  country  of 
the  Palatinate.  To  be  sure,  we  lived  in  a  very, 
very  modest  cottage  with  grandmother,  but  we  had 
the  run  of  uncle  Joseph's  big  garden  and  orchard 
by  the  church,  and  the  attention  of  all  the  grown- 
ups. My  mother,  after  my  father's  departure,  went 
at  once  to  take  the  beneficent  waters  of  Langen- 
schwalbach  and  soon  regained  her  health.  Of 
course  she  visited  at  the  "  Apotheke,"  where  she  had 
spent  so  much  of  her  girlhood.  She  had  taken  Au- 
gust with  her,  and  from  faded  and  crumpled  old  let- 
ters I  resurrected  years  after,  out  of  an  old  chest  at 
Ladenburg,  I  gather  that  the  vivacity  and  inquisitive- 
ness  of  "  Minna's  little  son  "  was  a  source  of  much 
diversion  to  granduncle  Fritz  and  grandaunt  Emilie. 

29 


Augustus  Charles  Bemays 

A  pharmacy,  with  its  many  contrivances,  bottles, 
instruments,  and  odors,  was  a  wonderful  play- 
ground for  the  wide-awake  child  of  four.  He  fol- 
lowed uncle  Fritz,  the  letters  say,  like  a  diminutive 
shadow  the  livelong  day,  trotting  up  and  down  and 
to  and  fro,  from  cellar  to  garret  and  from  store- 
room to  sales-room,  gazing  with  big  eyes,  and  ex- 
amining with  tiny  hands  everything  he  was  allowed 
to  touch,  and  questioning,  incessantly  questioning, 
about  the  names  and  uses  of  the  objects  he  saw. 
Just  before  we  were  to  join  our  father  in  St. 
Louis  in  the  fall  of  i860  my  mother,  at  the  ear- 
nest request  of  dear  old  uncle  Joseph,  consented  to 
have  August  and  me  christened.  The  ceremony 
had  been  omitted  in  Highland  because  of  the  gen- 
erally pagan  atmosphere  there  and  also  because  the 
manners  of  the  Illinois  clergy  of  those  days  dis- 
pleased our  dainty  and  fastidious  mother.  To  the 
end  of  her  life  she  did  not  entirely  relinquish  the 
faith  in  which  she  had  been  brought  up,  though  she 
rarely  went  to  church  and  in  nowise  opposed  my 
father  in  his  candid  agnosticism.  Clemens  had 
long  before  his  elder  brother  and  sister  been  hur- 
riedly and  forcibly  propelled  into  the  community 
of  the  church.  After  his  birth  at  Wiirzburg,  the 
Bavarian  authorities  kept  insistently  representing  to 
my  father  that  the  ceremony  was  due  and  overdue, 

30 


Descent,  Birth,  Babyhood 

so  that  finally,  in  order  to  avoid  difficulties,  he  re- 
luctantly complied  with  the  stringent  rules  of  his 
native  state,  and  had  the  babe  "  sprinkled." 

Our  christening,  August's  and  mine,  is  one  of  my 
earliest  recollections,  and  it  was  certainly  the  most 
exciting  day  of  our  early  childhood.  Uncle  Joseph 
and  aunt  Charlotte  had  an  only  son,  Emile,  who 
was  studying  forestry  at  Heidelberg  and  kept  hunt- 
ing dogs.  There  had  been  puppies,  and  the  day  of 
the  christening  the  gardener  had  for  the  first  time 
allowed  us  to  see  and  play  with  them.  August, 
who  always  invented  and  generaled  our  games,  had 
discovered  some  flower  pots  in  a  remote  corner  of 
the  garden.  We  each  appropriated  one  of  these, 
in  which  we  placed  a  doggie,  and  the  three  of  us 
were  having  a  proud  and  beautiful  time  marching 
along  the  box-bordered  garden  paths,  each  carrying 
a  flower  pot  with  a  long-eared,  soft,  spotted  pet, 
when  the  Carolines  — "  die  alte  Caroline,"  uncle 
Joseph's  cook,  and  "  die  kleine  Caroline,"  her  niece 
and  our  nurse  —  appeared  on  the  scene  to  fetch  us 
in  and  dress  us  for  the  christening.  We  all  vio- 
lently objected  to  the  interruption,  but  were  at  last 
cruelly  separated  from  our  pets  and  borne  off  amidst 
screams  and  tears.  August  was  most  vociferous  in 
his  protests  and  kept  up  his  rebellious  behavior  for 
the  rest  of  the  afternoon.     Even  after  he  had  en- 

31 


Augustus  Charles  Bemays 

tered  the  church,  clad  in  his  richly  embroidered 
trouserettes  and  Russian  blouse  of  white  pique, 
though  his  curiosity  was  stimulated  into  asking  what 
all  the  objects  he  saw  were  for,  he  kept  punctuating 
his  questions,  while  marching  up  and  down  the 
aisles,  with  loud  howls,  "  Ich  will  nicht  getauft 
werden!  Ich  will  nicht  getauft  werden!"  ("I 
don't  want  to  be  christened!  I  don't  want  to  be 
christened!  ") 

In  the  meantime  my  father,  kindly  encouraged 
by  uncle  Charles  Louis  and  Henry  Bornstein,  had 
succeeded  in  establishing  a  fairly  lucrative  begin- 
ning of  a  medical  practice  in  St.  Louis.  Bornstein 
had  long  since  become  an  influence  in  the  growing 
city  in  politics  and  in  journalism,  as  well  as  in 
stage  affairs.  Uncle  Charles  Louis  also  had  found 
tiny  Highland  too  confining  for  his  energies  and 
interests,  and  had  joined  his  old  friend  in  St.  Louis, 
taking  immediately  an  active  part  in  the  conduct 
of  the  Anzeiger  des  West  ens.  In  the  letters  of  my 
father  during  his  separation  from  us,  August  is 
constantly  referred  to  as  "  my  clever  big  boy,"  my 
"  slender  eldest,"  and  often  as  "  my  wild  "  or  "  my 
naughty  August."  Mother  and  aunt  are  exhorted 
not  to  begin  teaching  him  too  early,  yet,  when  the 
boy  was  no  older  than  five,  his  u  nice  "  letters  to 
papa  are  referred  to  and  his  writing  favorably  com- 

32 


Descent,  Birth,  Babyhood 

pared  with  that  of  children  nine  and  eleven  years 
old.  He  probably  learned  while  he  seemed  to  be 
playing,  his  extraordinary  quickness  of  comprehen- 
sion and  the  natural  flexibility  of  his  wee  hands 
making  easy  for  him  what  would  have  taxed  a 
less  gifted  child. 


33 


CHAPTER  II 

CHILDHOOD  IN  ST.  LOUIS  AND  LEBANON 

But  a  fraction  of  thy  wishes,  at  best,  will  be  granted. 
Therefore,  if  thou  wouldst  possess  a  tree,  desire  a  forest !  — 
Bulgarian  proverb. 

In  August,  i860,  my  mother,  with  her  three  little 
ones,  her  sister,  and  a  young  female  relative  of 
granduncle  Joseph,  embarked  once  more  for  the 
United  States  to  join  her  husband  —  this  time  on 
a  steamer  long  considered  one  of  the  finest  sailing 
the  Atlantic,  the  Hammonia,  of  the  Hamburg  line. 
She  was  a  splendid  sailor,  but  had  her  hands  very 
full  indeed  consoling  and  ministering  to  the  entire 
party,  who  all,  except  the  baby  Clemens,  succumbed 
to  mal  de  mer.  "  You  can  imagine,"  she  writes  to 
her  mother  on  arriving  in  New  York,  "  how  ill  Au- 
gust must  have  been  when  I  tell  you  that  that  wild, 
quicksilvery  child  lay  motionless  in  his  berth, 
scarcely  even  speaking  for  forty-eight  hours."  Our 
father  met  us  in  New  York,  and  brought  his  little 
family  in  triumph  to  the  little  house  he  had  rented 
and    furnished    on    Tenth    street,    near    Franklin 

34 


Childhood  in  St.  Louis  and  Lebanon 

avenue,  in  St.  Louis.  I  remember  our  exuber- 
ance of  joy  when,  as  we  entered,  we  found  three 
little  rocking-chairs  and  a  low  table  for  our  special 
use.  We  took  our  meals  at  this  table  for  a  long 
time,  our  elders  watching  us  from  the  big  table  in 
the  same  room  where  they  were  served.  August 
was  rarely  content  to  merely  eat  —  he  lent  spice  to 
the  feeding  process  by  eternally  new  ways  of  teas- 
ing Clem  and  me,  or,  when  peaceably  inclined,  in- 
vented games  of  barter  and  traffic  in  the  eatables  to 
vary  the  monotony  of  the  scene. 

My  father's  practice  had  gone  on  expanding  with 
rapidity,  once  he  had  a  start.  As  a  matter  of 
course,  he  marched  in  the  vanguard  of  progress 
with  the  men  who  advocated  a  longer  and  more 
thorough  course  of  study  for  practitioners  and  some 
kind  of  check  by  legislation  on  the  charlatanism 
rampant  then  as  now.  The  group  of  physicians 
under  the  leadership  of  Dr.  Adam  Hammer,  to 
which  he  belonged,  fought  valiantly  and  self-sacri- 
ficingly  for  their  ideals. 

In  the  Humboldt  Institute,  in  which  Hammer  and 
his  associates  sought  to  realize  their  ideas  and  ideals, 
our  father  taught  obstetrics  and  physiology  until  he 
left  St.  Louis  in  1866.  He  also  served  as  physician 
to  the  County  Farm,  as  the  Poor  House  was  then 
called.  He  earnestly  endeavored  to  extend  his  op- 
Si 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

portunities  and  to  win  success  —  a  word  which  held 
for  him  no  narrow  interpretation  of  self-seeking 
and  exploitation  of  his  fellow-men. 

August  was  sent  to  public  school  when  not  quite 
seven  years  old,  but  he  had  been  taught  many  things 
at  home.  In  fact,  a  very  few  days  after  he  had 
entered  school  his  teacher  called  on  our  mother  to 
say  that  the  little  boy  was  so  phenomenally  quick 
she  hardly  knew  what  to  do  with  him.  Primer  and 
first  reader  he  took  in  a  single  gulp  with  a  sort  of 
contempt,  having  long  before  mastered  reading  in 
the  more  difficult  German.  He  always  had  so  much 
time  and  inclination  to  get  himself  and  the  other  chil- 
dren into  mischief,  that  the  public  schools  and  the 
maiden  ladies  in  charge  of  them  were  soon  deemed 
insufficient  to  cope  with  his  particular  alertness.  In 
various  parts  of  the  city  there  were  then  German 
schools  conducted  by  European  masters,  partly  in 
German  and  partly  in  English.  They  had  a  more 
flexible  system  of  instruction,  and  gave  greater  at- 
tention to  the  individual  pupils  than  could  be  had  in 
the  crowded  public  institutions.  The  school  selected 
for  August,  which  he  attended  about  three  years, 
was  kept  by  a  Suabian  named  Heinrich  Werz,  who 
was  a  very  intelligent  and  earnest  master  —  a  born 
teacher.  Clem  and  I  later  became  pupils  at  the  same 
school.     The  three  of  us,  between  instruction  at  the 

36 


Childhood  in  St.  Louis  and  Lebanon 

Werz  school  and  private  instruction  from  Tantele 
and  good  old  Schubert,  managed  to  get  a  thorough 
grounding  in  the  rudiments.  Schubert  was  the 
typical  German  schoolmaster  as  seen  in  old  prints 
—  small,  emaciated,  shabby,  carrying  a  stick  and 
wearing  round  horn-rimmed  goggles.  He  was  a 
kind  old  man,  and  fond  of  teaching  us.  We  were 
rigidly  held  to  the  utmost  respect  for  his  authority, 
and  the  domestic  stimulation  and  interest  in  our 
progress  made  us  wide-awake  and  easy  to  teach. 
Then,  too,  his  instruction  was  in  part  remuneration 
for  the  devoted  medical  attendance  of  my  father  on 
his  own  and  his  son's  numerous  and  always  ailing 
progeny.  He  taught  us  arithmetic  and  geography, 
and  must  have  been  an  efficient  master,  for  August 
and  I,  when  but  ten  and  nine  years  of  age  respec- 
tively, were  considered  ripe  for  algebra,  and  at  that 
early  age  were  actually  plunged  into  this  abstruse 
science  by  the  enterprising  and  ambitious  Mr.  Werz. 
Our  fellow-pupils  were  all  much  older,  ranging 
from  thirteen  to  seventeen  years  of  age,  in  that 
heterogeneous  upper  class  of  Mr.  Werz'  hybrid 
school.  Luckily,  however,  for  our  future  command 
of  English,  we  left  this  mongrel  institution  when 
August  was  eleven  and  a  half  years  old,  and  for  the 
six  years  following,  with  minds  and  tongues  still  at 
the  most  plastic  stage,  we  came  in  contact  exclu- 

37 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

sively  with  purely  American  educational  and  social 
influences. 

More  than  in  school  or  during  lesson  hours, 
August's  observant  and  inquiring  mind  was  prob- 
ably inspired  by  what,  in  those  stirring  times  of  the 
Civil  war,  was  being  enacted  round  about  him  by  a 
nation  agitated  to  its  profoundest  depths  and  divided 
against  itself  on  a  tremendous  moral  issue.  The 
outward  aspect  —  soldiers  marching  and  drilling, 
bands  playing,  artillery  moving,  the  noise  and  din  of 
the  thing  —  primarily  stimulated  his  imagination, 
for  the  war  was  over  when  he  was  but  eleven  years 
old.  But  there  was  necessarily,  in  a  family  so 
intensely  moved  by  the  grand  ideas  of  liberty  and 
justice  as  was  ours,  much  discussion  of  the  political 
as  well  as  the  military  trend  of  the  struggle.  Born- 
stein  was  for  a  time  lieutenant-governor  of  the  state 
and  took  part  in  the  Camp  Jackson  episodes.  Uncle 
Charles  probably  had,  if  the  truth  were  known,  an 
even  greater  influence  on  the  conduct  of  affairs  in 
Missouri  —  publicly  through  his  editorial  work  on 
the  Anzeiger  des  Westens,  but  more  personally  and 
directly  through  his  closeness  to  the  men  at  the  helm. 
Bates  had  been  his  first  choice  as  Republican  candi- 
date for  the  presidency,  but  when  Lincoln  was  nomi- 
nated all  his  fiery  nature  went  out  to  this  grand  and 
original  man,  and  he  marshaled  the  Germans  as  best 

38 


Childhood  in  St.  Louis  and  Lebanon 

he  could  through  the  columns  of  the  paper,  whose 
policy  he  helped  dictate,  on  Lincoln's  side.  When 
Missouri  was  afterward  trembling  on  the  verge  of 
defection  from  the  Union,  he  did  valiant,  though 
never  recognized,  work  to  keep  her  on  the  side  of 
the  more  generous  aspect.  At  a  critical  moment  he 
was  sent  for  to  go  to  Washington. —  probably  by 
Bates,  who  had  been  made  attorney-general  —  to 
enlighten  and  convince  the  president  as  to  the  actual 
condition  of  affairs  in  Missouri.  To  this  interview 
with  President  Lincoln  the  unfortunate  nomination 
of  Fremont  —  as  it  turned  out  —  to  the  comman- 
dership  of  the  Department  of  the  West  is  to  be 
attributed.  Uncle  was  of  the  Fremont  staff  during 
the  hundred  days.  Whether,  as  has  been  held,  he 
was  in  part  responsible  for  the  premature  procla- 
mation of  emancipation  by  General  Fremont  is  un- 
certain, but  that  his  previous  experience  in  Euro- 
pean politics,  his  brilliant  and  effective  journalistic 
work,  his  broad  outlook,  and  philosophic  conception 
of  history  had  some  weight  with  his  general,  admits 
of  no  doubt.  He  foresawr  that  there  was  but  one 
end  possible  to  the  war  —  the  complete  extinction 
of  slavery  —  and  he  believed  in  rapid  and  trenchant 
means  to  this  goal.  Bornstein,  speaking  of  this 
epoch  in  uncle's  career  says :  "  He  was  never  con- 
tent to  view  things  along  party  lines  alone,  but  had 

39 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

a  higher,  broader,  farther-reaching  vision.  His 
judgment  was  clear,  well  founded,  incisive,  and 
nearly  all  his  predictions  of  that  period  came  true." 

So  the  great  events  were  foreshadowed  and  dis- 
cussed in  the  tiny  parlor  on  Tenth  street  where  we 
lived,  for  uncle  and  my  father  remained  always  the 
most  intimate  and  confidential  of  friends.  August's 
eager  ears  doubtless  took  in  what  they  could,  and 
constructed  in  a  vivid,  if  childlike,  fancy  a  gigantic 
background  to  the  stage,  where  his  own  wondering, 
waiting  figure  stood,  a  mere  speck  in  the  farthest 
wings.  The  women  were  as  much  concerned  as  the 
men.  They  taught  our  wee  hands  to  make  lint  and 
to  roll  bandages,  and  caused  our  hearts  to  sympa- 
thize with  the  suffering  soldiers  and  the  many  wid- 
ows and  orphans.  The  names  of  the  generals  of  the 
forces  and  the  heroes  of  the  battles  were  always  on 
our  lips.  Their  faces,  too,  became  familiar  through 
albums  of  photographs  that  opened  like  folders. 
These  we  youngsters  spread  on  the  floor,  and  spent 
hours  on  our  stomachs  before  them,  playing  at 
"  choosing  commanders."  Ellsworth,  Lyon,  and 
Fremont  were  first  our  favorites,  and  later  Sherman, 
Sheridan,  and  Grant ;  but  Stonewall  Jackson  and  the 
great  Lee,  partial  and  partisan  as  we  were  to  the 
L'nion  side,  were  scarcely  less  admired. 

Early  in  the  war  —  I  think  it  was  when  General 

40 


Childhood  in  St.  Louis  and  Lebanon 

Lyon  entered  the  town  —  August's  impulse  and  pre- 
dilection for  a  front  seat,  from  which  to  satisfy  his 
curiosity,  gave  us  a  melancholy  day.  Though  his 
proneness  to  personal  investigation  and  lust  of 
adventure  were  no  secret,  and  he  was  closely 
watched,  he  managed  this  once  to  escape  the  vigi- 
lance of  his  mother  and  aunt.  His  absence  was 
soon  discovered,  but  for  all  the  long  hours  of  the 
longest  day  of  my  childhood  the  search  for  him 
proved  unavailing.  A  pall  hung  over  the  house, 
and  my  mother's  face  grew  ever  paler  and  more 
tragic.  Late  at  night,  when  her  agony  was  almost 
unbearable,  the  coachman  came  in  with  the  little 
truant  hanging  limp  and  tired  —  half  starved,  but 
unhurt  —  over  his  stalwart  shoulders.  He  had 
found  him  on  the  levee  entertaining  a  group  of 
roustabouts,  seemingly  unafraid,  but  glad  enough, 
no  doubt,  deep  down  in  his  stout  little  heart,  to  be 
gathered  up  and  returned  to  the  nest. 

In  1866,  seven  years  after  my  father  had  settled 
in  St.  Louis,  he  felt  obliged  to  abandon  his  distinctly 
good  chances  to  acquire  a  comfortable  fortune  —  at 
least  what  in  the  more  modest  view  of  those  simple 
days  was  regarded  as  such.  His  health  had  been 
impaired,  while  a  student  in  London,  by  blood  poi- 
soning in  dissecting  some  virulently  septic  cadaver. 
His  left  arm  was,  after  the  infection,  in  such  a  state 

41 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

that  amputation  was  considered.  Surgeons  in  the 
late  forties  of  the  last  century  were,  however,  less 
keen  for  such  radical  measures,  and  so  the  arm  was 
preserved,  but  ever  after  remained  swollen  and 
subject  to  frequently  recurring  attacks  of  erysipe- 
las. He  had  several  of  these  attacks  in  the  winter 
of  '65  and  '66,  and  this  decided  him  to  abandon 
for  a  time  the  strenuous  life  of  a  general  practi- 
tioner in  order  to  find  rest  and  restoration  in  the 
country. 

In  Lebanon,  St.  Clair  County,  Illinois,  a  roomy 
house,  with  half  a  block  of  garden,  was  found,  and 
there  in  April,  1866,  our  parents,  with  family  in- 
creased by  the  advent  in  1861  of  sister  Lily,  entered 
once  more  on  a  quiet,  rural  life.  Long  hours  of 
leisure  they  expected  to  have  for  gardening,  a  pur- 
suit to  which  both  our  parents  were  exceedingly  par- 
tial. The  place  was  near  enough  to  St.  Louis,  an 
hour's  ride  by  rail,  to  admit  of  comfortable  inter- 
course and  frequent  participation  in  the  larger  life 
of  friends  and  relatives  in  the  city.  The  educational 
institutions  of  the  small  Methodist  town  stood  in 
good  repute.  McKendree  College  for  August,  who 
at  less  than  twelve  was  considered  amply  ripe  and 
ready  for  the  higher  education,  offered  the  classical 
course  my  father  desired  him  to  take.  The  younger 
brood  could  begin  by  taking  its  chances  in  the  public 

42 


Childhood  in  St.  Louis  and  Lebanon 

schools,  which,  if  the  worst  came  to  the  worst,  Tan- 
tele  and  our  parents  stood  ready  to  supplement. 

In  September,  1866,  August  entered  college.  All 
his  classmates  were  years  older  than  he,  but  my 
parents  were  used  to  the  idea  of  the  German  gym- 
nasium, which  a  boy  usually  enters  at  ten  and 
where  he  pursues  classical  and  other  studies  for 
eight  or  nine  years.  He  was  not,  like  most  of  the 
brave  fellows  —  some  of  whom  were  not  only 
grown,  but  heavily  bearded,  and  who  attended 
school  at  McKendree  on  their  own  scant  earnings 
—  to  be  hurried  through  a  curtailed  course.  A 
preparatory  course  of  two  years  first  and  the  full 
four  years  afterward,  with  six  years  of  Latin  and 
Greek,  was  the  least  that  could  with  equanimity  be 
contemplated  by  our  European-bred  progenitors  for 
their  gifted  first-born. 

So  it  fell  out  that  for  six  years  we  were  turned 
loose  in  the  country.  This  was  most  lucky  for  us, 
for,  although  the  vaunted  educational  advantages  of 
Lebanon,  on  closer  inspection,  proved  meager  even 
for  that  primitive  time,  we  had  what  was  infinitely 
preferable  to  the  best-equipped  schools  —  all  out- 
doors to  teach  us  and  plenty  of  elbow-room  in  a 
nature  almost  unspotted  by  the  touch  of  man,  pure 
air  to  breathe  and  healthy  exercise  in  it  to  strengthen 
our  limbs  and  sharpen  our  senses,  the  grown-ups 

.      43 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

not  too  busy  to  answer  some  of  the  myriad  ques- 
tions we  asked,  every  kind  of  pet  allowed  on  the 
premises,  gardening  as  well  as  collections  of  beetles 
and  butterflies  encouraged  by  a  father  who  was  a 
splendid  botanist  and  something  of  an  entomologist, 
eager  to  impart  all  he  knew  to  his  little  troop  that 
ceaselessly  clamored  for  information.  The  simple 
life  we  led  was,  I  am  quite  sure,  the  best  prepara- 
tion August  could  have  had  for  his  subsequent 
career.  It  left  his  mind  fresh  for  the  real  work  he 
later  did  in  Heidelberg,  and  made  his  body  fit. 
However  tight  the  parental  rein  was  held,  he  did 
not  weary  his  eyes  nor  bend  his  shoulders  much  over 
books  in  those  years.  The  musty  Latin  and  Greek 
authors  he  instinctively  felt  were  nothing,  in  all  their 
wisdom,  to  the  pulsating  life  each  season  spread  out 
in  infinite  variety  before  his  delighted  senses.  He 
studied  enough  to  pass  examinations,  which  was  not 
alarmingly  much,  because  to  him  almost  every  oper- 
ation of  the  mind  came  easily. 

August  had  what  the  Germans  call  his  "  Flegel- 
jahre  "  in  Lebanon  —  years  full  of  uncouthness  and 
prankishness  and  impishness.  Much  was  there  and 
then,  after  all,  forbidden  because  it  was  consid- 
ered dangerous,  and  August's  frequent  transgres- 
sions of  the  stern  decrees  got  him  often  into  dis- 
grace and  kept  the  female  members  of  the  family 

44 


Childhood  in  St.  Louis  and  Lebanon 

constantly  in  hot  water.  My  father  did  not  restrain 
his  temper  in  the  bosom  of  the  family  as  he  did 
when  in  contact  with  the  suffering.  Disobedience 
on  the  part  of  his  children  to  the  law  he  laid  down 
meant  a  serious  visitation.  "  Spare  the  rod  and 
spoil  the  child "  was  still  taken  literally  in  those 
days.  Though  our  father  could  be  severe,  and  our 
mother  was  habitually  nervous  and  sometimes  over- 
anxious, August,  by  hook  or  by  crook,  managed  not 
to  miss  much  of  the  pleasures  of  country  life,  and  he 
frequently  inveigled  Clem  into  sharing  the  stolen 
delights.  I  could  always  tell  when  they  had  slipped 
off  to  go  swimming  in  Big  Hole,  a  dangerous  pond 
in  the  near  woods,  because  they  left  their  shoes  and 
stockings  on  the  landing  that  led  from  the  dining- 
room  to  the  basement  kitchen,  behind  the  barrels 
and  boxes  of  supplies  that  were  kept  there.  I  used 
to  shake  in  my  small  boots  for  fear  one  of  them 
would  be  drowned,  or  both  of  them  caught  in  the 
act  of  disobedience,  which  would  precipitate  an  out- 
burst of  "  pa's  "  and  a  severe  punishment  on  Au- 
gust. At  other  times  they  would  go  hunting  with 
borrowed  rifles,  or  other  more  or  less  decrepit 
shooting-irons  they  somehow  obtained.  On  one  of 
these  occasions  —  Clem  was  with  him  —  August 
did  come  to  grief,  badly  shooting  and  mangling  two 
of  his  fingers.     Neither  could  exactly  explain  how 

45 


Augustus  Charles  Bemays 

the  accident  happened.  It  had  no  more  serious  con- 
sequences than  a  little  pain  and  fever,  and  a  few 
days  of  anxiety  for  my  mother,  with  whose  nervous- 
ness for  her  gifted,  but  adventuresome,  boy  one  is 
inclined  to  sympathize.  That  time  at  least  he  came 
perilously  close  to  maiming  a  hand  that  was  con- 
structed and  destined  to  become  a  wonderfully 
willing  instrument,  the  servant  of  an  unusual  intel- 
lect, in  alleviating  some  of  humanity's  ills.  On  an- 
other occasion  the  rash  boy  was  surreptitiously 
riding  bare-back  our  skittish  white  horse  Billy,  who 
unexpectedly  shied  and  threw  August  to  the  ground, 
badly  breaking  his  ankle.  This  necessitated  an  en- 
forced rest  and,  I  imagine,  a  welcome  respite  from 
attendance  at  classes  for  a  period  of  six  weeks.  No 
limp  or  perceptible  evil  result  ensued  for  the  sixteen- 
year-old,  but  later  in  Germany  he  was  in  the  habit 
of  attributing  his  reluctance  to  indulge  in  arduous 
feats  of  pedestrianism,  such  as  the  German  students 
affect,  to  a  weakness  of  the  injured  member. 

The  accomplishments  of  swimming,  shooting, 
and  riding  were  thus  acquired  "  by  the  natural 
method,"  without  instruction  other  than  that  he 
could  obtain  by  merely  watching,  imitating,  and 
emulating  others,  the  boy  displaying  at  that  early 
age  the  dominant  traits  of  his  later  life  —  determi- 
nation, initiative,  undaunted  courage,  and  a  great 

46 


Childhood  in  St.  Louis  and  Lebanon 

curiosity  of  life  in  its  every  manifestation,  which 
he  indulged  at  any  cost  and  in  the  face  of  opposition 
and  peril  from  infancy  to  his  dying  day. 

Outdoor  tasks  —  such  as  taking  the  cow  to 
pasture,  going  after  and  milking  her,  feeding  the 
chickens,  weeding  the  garden,  gathering  the  small 
and  large  fruits,  of  which  there  was  great  abun- 
dance, as  well  as  the  vegetables  for  the  daily  table 
—  alternated  with  the  permitted  pleasures  of  going 
berrying,  nutting,  and  persimmoning,  and  chasing 
butterflies  and  beetles.  We  took  all  our  meals  in 
the  pleasant  season  at  a  long  table  in  the  garden 
under  two  immense  acacias.  Here,  too,  the  family, 
boys  and  girls,  and  man-servant  and  maid-servant 
were  patriarchally  rounded  up  and  pressed  into 
service  at  stoning  cherries,  picking  strawberries, 
and  paring  peaches,  apples,  and  pears  for  the  gener- 
ous stores  of  preserves  and  jellies  that  were  put  up. 
The  canning  and  preserving  were  done  over  a  fire 
built  in  the  yard,  and  all  the  family  took  turns  at 
stirring  the  preserves  with  a  long-handled  spatula, 
standing  at  considerable  range  from  the  boiling 
kettle. 

After  the  first  frost,  when  dining  in  the  garden 
was  impracticable,  we  used  to  pile  high  the  table 
under  the  acacias  with  persimmons  culled  from  a 
grove  near  by.     The  boys  had  also  great  hoards  of 

47 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

hazel,  hickory,  and  black  walnuts,  that  grew  wild 
in  profusion  in  all  that  district,  stored  away  in  one 
of  the  outhouses  —  smoke-house  or  summer  kitchen, 
or  whatever  one  was  given  over  to  their  private  and 
manifold  uses.  There  they  kept  also  owls  or  cat- 
birds, redbirds,  bluejays,  mocking-birds  —  whatever 
they  could  lay  hands  on  to  house  and  cage,  and  make 
a  pet  of  for  awhile.  Guinea  pigs,  white  mice,  rab- 
bits, squirrels,  and  a  monkey  alternated  in  their 
affections  with  the  more  domestic  animals  —  cats, 
dogs,  and  barnyard  fowls. 


48 


CHAPTER  III 
INFLUENCES  AT  LEBANON 

Had  I  read  as  much  as  others,  I  might  have  been  as  igno- 
rant.—  Hobbes. 

In  order  to  get  into  my  pen  picture  a  shading  of  a 
man's  view  of  the  character  of  my  brother  in  early 
youth,  I  asked  one  of  his  classmates  and  comrades 
of  those  days,  Mr.  W.  A.  Kelsoe,  whose  faithful 
memory  is  a  byword  in  St.  Louis  journalism,  to 
supplement  my  story  by  a  letter  reminiscent  of  their 
mutual  relations  and  the  life  and  spirit  of  the  little 
Methodist  College.  Mr.  Kelsoe's  letter  follows  in 
part : 

Your  brother  and  I  entered  the  preparatory  department  of 
McKendree  College  the  same  week,  if  not  the  same  day,  in 
September,  1866,  and  graduated  together  in  June,  1872.  I 
boarded  for  five  years  within  a  stone's  throw  of  his  home, 
and  met  him  almost  daily  in  the  class-room,  on  the  college 
grounds,  and  in  the  streets  of  Lebanon.  For  a  year  and 
more  he  was,  I  think,  the  youngest  and  smallest  of  the  students, 
but  was  even  then  regarded  by  his  associates  and  teach- 
ers as  one  of  the  brightest  boys  in  the  preparatory  depart- 
ment.   He  attracted  a  great  deal  of  attention  by  his  inquisi- 

49 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

tiveness,  and  was  always  asking  questions,  seeking  more 
knowledge,  never  satisfied  with  what  he  obtained.  He  did  not 
seem  to  care  for  high  marks  or  a  good  record  in  his  recita- 
tions, but  his  classmates  knew  that  young  Bernays  was  really 
better  informed  than  they  on  most  of  the  subjects  studied. 
This  was  particularly  true  of  the  Greek  and  Latin  languages, 
and  of  chemistry,  botany,  zoology,  physiology,  and  physics. 

August  seldom  missed  a  recitation,  except  during  a  few 
weeks  in  the  fall  of  1870,  when  he  was  laid  up  with  a  broken 
leg.  He  spent  considerable  time  in  the  college  gymnasium, 
and  took  part  in  some  of  the  public  exhibitions  given  there. 
He  was  fond  of  outdoor  sports,  and  joined  the  first  base  ball 
club  organized  at  McKendree  College.  When  Bernays  re- 
ceived the  degree  of  Bachelor  of  Arts  on  June  13,  1872,  he 
lacked  four  months  of  being  eighteen  years  old.  He  was  the 
youngest  member  of  his  class  and  one  of  the  youngest  gradu- 
ates in  the  history  of  McKendree  College. 

August  was  accommodating  even  to  the  extent  of  sacrificing 
his  own  comfort  in  aiding  others.  He  had  a  big  heart  as 
well  as  a  big  head.  He  was  never  quarrelsome;  in  fact,  I 
don't  remember  ever  having  seen  him  in  a  bad  humor.  He 
was  an  optimist,  looked  on  the  bright  side  of  things,  had  a 
smile  and  a  kind  word  for  every  one.  He  liked  fun,  and 
occasionally  engaged  in  college  pranks,  but  I  never  knew  him 
to  willfully  injure  a  fellow-student  or  to  treat  him  unfairly 
in  any  way. 

Mr.  Kelsoe's  account  of  August  is,  of  course,  col- 
ored by  his  own  kindness  and  gentleness,  and  it  is 
possible  that  he  has  forgotten  the  naughtiness  and 
impishness  of  August's  boyhood;  but  certainly  no 
student's  forbidden  frolic  or  demonstrative  insubor- 

50 


Influences  at  Lebanon 

dination  to  the  laws  took  place  at  McKendree,  while 
August  was  enrolled  there,  without  his  being  as- 
signed a  lively  part  in  it.  To  be  sure,  he  was  under 
paternal  vigilance,  and  not  often  permitted  to  go  out 
at  night.  He  may  not,  therefore,  have  had  an  actual 
part  in  the  flying  of  the  physiology  class  skeleton 
from  the  flag-pole  on  the  campus,  or  in  painting 
Professor  Blair's  pony  sky-blue,  but  that  he  helped 
originate  these  and  other  more  or  less  reprehensible 
schemes  to  stir  up  the  staid  and  stolid  little  old  town 
goes  without  saying. 

On  one  occasion  I  was  present  when  a  professor, 
unpopular  because  he  was  supposed  to  have  insisted 
on  the  expulsion  of  a  beloved  leader  of  the  students, 
was  delivering  a  lecture,  which  the  students  as  well 
as  the  townspeople  attended.  August  had  care- 
fully prepared  a  huge  bouquet  of  mullein  leaves 
and  other  unsavory  weeds,  and  this,  at  a  striking 
moment  of  the  lecture,  he  threw  upon  the  platform 
to  mark  his  disapproval  of  anything  that  professor 
stood  for.  President  A.  was  sitting  on  the  platform 
and  had  his  eyes  on  the  boy,  whose  mischievous  and 
rebellious  propensities  he  knew.  He  called  Au- 
gust by  name,  and  made  him  march  up  to  the  plat- 
form and  remove  the  token  of  animosity.  Our 
parents  were  in  the  audience,  and  I  feared  August 

5i 


Augustus  Charles  Bemays 

was  in  for  a  heavy  penance  at  home,  which  is  prob- 
ably the  reason  the  incident  remains  so  vividly  im- 
pressed on  my  mind. 

August  had  to  be  more  or  less  gently  urged  in  his 
studies  of  Latin  and  Greek.  Learning  declensions 
and  conjugations  in  languages  no  longer  alive  in  the 
mouths  of  men  was  to  him  not  an  unmixed  joy. 
But  my  father  was  inexorable.  He  held  that  the 
strait  and  narrow  door  of  the  classics  had  to  be 
passed,  because,  in  the  first  place,  this  kind  of  study 
ranked  high  in  his  estimation  as  a  mental  discipline, 
and,  further,  because  it  seemed  to  him  to  be  the 
key  to  pleasures  of  the  intellect  that  a  boy's  limited 
vision  might  fail  to  foresee,  but  to  which  in  later 
life  he  would  turn  with  the  utmost  delight.  So  he 
coached  and  coerced  and  insisted,  and  succeeded  in 
making  his  son  acquire  a  thorough  grounding  in  the 
classics,  but  that  abiding  love  that  in  after-life  was 
to  cause  him  to  revert  to  them  for  solace  or  diver- 
sion was  not  instilled.  Sometimes  cousin  Emile 
Joseph  —  the  typical  pastor's  son,  whose  studies  of 
forestry  had  come  to  naught,  and  who  eked  out  a 
scant  living  as  an  engraver  in  St.  Louis  —  came 
over  and  spent  with  us  the  weeks  and  months  he  was 
out  of  a  "  job."  By  way  of  making  him  a  bit  use- 
ful, the  rehearsing  of  August's  lessons  in  Latin  and 
Greek  was  deputed  to  him.     He  was  a  flabby,  good- 

52 


Influences  at  Lebanon 

natured  individual,  fond  of  children,  and  at  the  age 
of  twenty-six  still  had  a  pretty  good  recollection  of 
the  classical  lore  which  the  German  gymnasium  so 
effectually  imparts  to  its  pupils. 

From  Horace  and  Homer  the  rest  of  us  were 
shut  out,  but  not  from  what  we  considered  Emile's 
finest  accomplishment  and  chief  purpose  in  life 
—  telling  long  and  blood-curdling  stories  of  adven- 
ture, tales  he  either  invented  or  had  heard  or  read. 
He  was  a  wonder  on  the  exploits  of  famous  brig- 
ands, bandits,  pirates,  and  other  outlaws.  His  tales 
were  mostly  wildest  fabrication  and  romancing, 
but  they  were  wittily  and  prancingly  told  in  good 
German.  In  summer  on  the  lawn,  under  the  fruit 
trees,  or  in  the  vine-clad  bowers  and  arbors  that 
dotted  our  big  place,  and  in  winter  by  the  fire,  while 
we  cracked  and  ate  nuts,  and  made  the  flames  flare 
up  by  feeding  them  with  the  shells,  August's  eyes 
grew  as  big  as  the  proverbial  saucers  and  flashed 
with  excitement  as  Emile's  tales  became  in  the 
course  of  an  evening  ever  more  lurid,  and  as  he 
called  out  of  the  vasty  deep  of  his  fantastic  mind, 
to  astonish  and  frighten  us,  ever  more  frightful 
deeds  of  the  worthies  to  whom  he  introduced  us 
with  such  immediacy  and  vim. 

Later  August  became  equally  fond  of  a  different 
kind  of  tales,  also  brightly  colored,  but  based  on 

53 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

the  history  of  recent  times.  These  he  got  from  un- 
cle Bernard,  our  father's  eldest  brother,  who  came 
over  from  Highland  on  frequent  visits.  This  uncle 
was  very  badly  crippled,  having  been  dropped  when  a 
baby  by  his  nurse,  and  so  seriously  injured  that  one 
leg  was  a  great  deal  shorter  than  the  other.  In 
spite  of  this  infirmity  he  had  been  a  rabid  revolu- 
tionist in  '48,  acting  as  treasurer  of  the  funds  of 
the  liberty-mad  young  men  of  the  Palatinate.  After 
'48  he  at  first  took  refuge  in  the  Netherlands,  and, 
when  his  brother  Jacob  and  his  family  were  ready 
to  emigrate,  joined  them  and  came  to  America.  In 
Highland  he  bought  a  small  house  with  a  garden, 
which,  in  spite  of  crutches,  he  managed  to  cultivate 
with  as  exotic  and  riotous  a  growth  of  plants  and 
flowers  as  he  could  beg,  borrow,  or  crib.  There 
he  lived  nearly  forty  years.  At  first  he  tried  to 
read  American  law  to  supplement  his  German 
studies,  and  opened  a  little  office  as  attorney  and 
notary  public.  He  never  did  much,  however,  in 
this  calling,  but  by  dint  of  a  small  inheritance  and  a 
little  journalistic  work,  mostly  for  the  Milwaukee 
Freidenker  —  in  violent,  atheistic  vein  —  managed, 
with  some  help  from  my  father,  to  lead  a  secluded 
rural  life.  Through  reproductions  of  the  art 
works  in  illustrated  magazines  he  satisfied  in  a 
queer,  stunted  way  his  great  love  of  art,  and  in  his 

54 


Influences  at  Lebanon 

own  estimation  figured  as  quite  a  collector.  On  his 
flight  to  Holland,  stopping  for  a  time  in  the  low 
Rhine  country,  he  had  picked  up  for  a  song  a  few 
really  valuable  Flemish  paintings,  and  these,  to- 
gether with  a  great  deal  of  rubbish,  ornamented  his 
walls.  But  his  ceaseless  smoking  so  blackened 
them  that  the  colors  at  the  time  of  his  death  were 
scarcely  distinguishable.  There  were  besides  these 
paintings  —  which,  when  cleaned  up,  proved  to  be 
rarely  fine  examples  of  the  best  time  of  Flemish  art 
(they  are  at  present  in  the  keeping  of  the  St.  Louis 
Museum  of  Fine  Arts) — boxes  upon  boxes  of 
every  kind  of  black-and-white  from  wood  cut  to 
metal  engraving.  Scarcely  any  of  them  had  value, 
excepting  for  the  collector  himself,  who,  with  his 
superabundance  of  fancy  and  leisure,  may  have  re- 
constructed from  those  poor  outlines  something  of 
the  charm  and  color  of  the  original.  This  mass  of 
heterogeneous  stuff,  dignified  by  the  name  of  art 
collection,  he  left  to  August,  in  whom  he  always 
found  what  he  grew  to  value  most  — -  a  patient  and 
interested  listener  to  his  tales  of  that  spurt  for  lib- 
erty in  '48  that  ever  formed  the  burden  of  his  talk. 
The  great  event  of  his  life  it  had  been  —  the  one 
actual  taste  and  touch  he  had  had  with  the  wider 
concerns,  the  grander  movements  of  the  world. 
Excluded  as  he  was  from  the  feast  of  life  by  his 

55 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

infirmity,  uncle  Bernard  sought  to  make  up  for 
what  he  missed  by  the  pleasures  of  the  imagination. 
His  language  was  most  picturesque,  and  whatever 
he  saw,  heard,  or  read  never  suffered  in  his  versions 
from  understatement.  His  account  of  the  events 
of  '48  and  of  his  share  in  the  little  rebellion  of  the 
Palatinate  took  on,  as  the  years  elapsed,  more  and 
ever  more  pronounced  colors  and  bolder  contours. 
August  never  betrayed  the  slightest  astonishment  at, 
or  expressed  the  remotest  objection  to,  the  changes 
uncle  Bernard's  narrative  underwent.  On  the  con- 
trary, he  led  him  on  by  adroit  question  and  oppor- 
tune relish  to  increasingly  vivid  and  hazardous  ar- 
rangements of  the  scenes.  The  personages  that 
strutted  over  the  small  stage  of  that  long  ago  would 
never  have  recognized  themselves  in  their  increased 
stature  and  importance.  But  the  listener  gloried  in 
the  artistry  of  these  embellishments,  and  was  one 
with  the  artist  in  the  enjoyment  he  derived  from 
the  highly- wrought  work. 

In  politics  uncle  Bernard  never  forgot  and  never 
forgave.  The  achievements  of  the  Germans  under 
Bismarck  and  Kaiser  Wilhelm  I.  he  pretended  to 
despise.  The  first  emperor  of  Germany,  so  idol- 
ized abroad,  remained  to  him  the  "  Kartatschen- 
prinz,"  and  Bismarck  the  hateful  reactionary  and 
foe  to  liberty.     Nothing  short  of  a  German  repub- 

56 


Influences  at  Lebanon 

lie,  exactly  as  planned  by  himself  and  the  forty- 
eighters,  would  have  satisfied  him.  His  tirades 
against  monarchy  were  wonders  of  invective.  He 
was  as  fluent,  as  bitter,  as  inventive  in  epithet,  as 
forcible  in  denunciation,  as  the  ancient  Jewish 
prophets. 

A  more  potent  —  because  a  broader,  saner  intel- 
lectual—  background  than  Emile's  and  uncle  Ber- 
nard's, against  which  August  learned  to  range  the 
events  of  his  own  little  world,  was  furnished  by 
uncle  Charles,  who  came  very  often  from  St.  Louis, 
delighted  to  share  with  his  brother  and  his  brother's 
family  the  larger  interests  of  which  he  was  a  part. 
Under  Lincoln  he  had  had  two  brief  consulships  — 
the  first  in  Zurich,  the  second  in  Helsingor,  Den- 
mark. Returning  in  1864  to  the  United  States,  he 
resumed  his  journalistic  work  on  the  Anzeiger  des 
Western,  which  had  meanwhile  passed  into  the 
hands  of  Carl  Danzer,  and  later  he  became  for  a 
time  an  editorial  writer  on  the  Republican. 

In  the  remarkable  and  quietly  influential  group  of 
men  and  women  who  at  that  time  began  coming  to- 
gether regularly  in  the  St.  Louis  Art  Society,  who 
founded  the  first  musical  associations,  reformed  the 
schools,  introduced  the  kindergartens,  the  benefits 
of  whose  insights  and  energies  we  of  the  St.  Louis 
of  191 2,  but  not  we  alone,  are  still  reaping,  uncle 

57 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

Charles  was  one  of  the  most  interested  and  inter- 
esting of  members.  William  T.  Harris  was  the 
leader  of  this  coterie,  and  with  Thomas  Davidson, 
Denton  J.  Snider,  Governor  Brockmeyer,  Horace 
Morgan,  the  Yeatman-Allen  family,  the  Blows,  the 
Chauvenets,  Miss  Brackett,  Miss  Beedy,  and  others 
formed  the  nucleus  of  a  circle,  the  eddies  of  which 
spread  gradually  all  over  the  United  States.  The 
comprehension  of  educational  needs,  the  philosophic 
culture,  the  universality  of  interests  that  distin- 
guished this  little  center  in  the  Middle  West  was 
second  only  to  that  of  the  group  of  transcenden- 
talists  under  Emerson,  Alcott,  and  others  who  were 
working  a  little  earlier  along  similar  lines  in  the 
East.  In  the  practical  results  obtained  by  them, 
our  St.  Louis  men  and  women  have  been  indeed 
superior,  though  the  poetic  appeal  and  the  greater 
literary  creativeness  of  the  older  group,  together 
with  some  weird  experiments  of  living,  by  which 
they  tried  to  translate  their  theories  into  actualities, 
made  the  latter  more  widely  cited. 

The  study  of  pedagogics  and  of  metaphysics  led 
to  the  publication  of  the  Journal  of  Speculative 
Philosophy,  the  first  and  for  a  long  time  the  only 
publication  of  the  kind  in  the  United  States.  To 
this  uncle  Charles  contributed  papers  on  art  and 
music,  and  he  was,  if  I  mistake  not,  the  first  in  St. 

58 


Influences  at  Lebanon 

Louis  to  create  an  interest  in  Schopenhauer,  whose 
light  was  then  just  dawning  on  the  European  hori- 
zon. He  translated  parts  of  the  "  World  as  Will 
and  Idea,"  of  the  "  Ethics,"  and  of  other  writings 
of  the  great  pessimist,  as  well  as  some  of  Auguste 
Comte's  positivist  preachings.  He  joined  in  the  dis- 
cussions on  Fichte  and  Schelling,  and  made  a  special 
study  of  Hegel,  who  was,  of  course,  the  chosen 
apostle  of  this  school,  though  the  erudites  like  T. 
Davidson  suffered  no  eclipsing  of  the  ancients, 
Aristotle  and  Plato. 

At  many  a  week-end  in  Lebanon  we  listened  to  a 
rehearsal  of  the  debates  that  had  taken  place  in  St. 
Louis  on  subjects  of  a  metaphysical  order,  and  were 
made  acquainted  with  the  practical  innovations  Har- 
ris and  his  associates  were  planning  and  carrying 
out. 

The  most  exciting  events,  intellectually,  of  the 
sixties  and  early  seventies  were,  however,  the  scien- 
tific findings  of  Wallace,  Darwin,  Huxley,  and 
others,  destined  to  revolutionize  every  branch  of 
science  and  to  color  all  the  mental  experiences  of 
the  generation  then  growing  up.  The  vivid  spark 
of  the  new  theory  flew  instantly  to  the  most  inflam- 
mable spot  of  August's  mind.  Our  father,  always 
on  the  qui  vive  for  the  really  progressive  discoveries 
and   the   productive   thoughts,   early  procured  the 

59 


Augustus  Charles  Bemays 

"  Origin  of  Species,"  "  Natural  Selection,"  and  the 
entire  works  as  they  appeared  of  that  wonderful 
group  of  scientific  men.  He  read  and  studied  them 
with  August,  making  them  truly  alive  by  illustra- 
ting them  with  the  profusion  of  plant  and  animal 
life  at  his  elbow.  Thus  it  occurred  that  August 
chose  for  the  theme  of  his  graduating  oration  "  The 
Darwinian  Theory,"  a  subject  which  lay  quite  apart 
from  the  teachings  received  in  the  little  orthodox 
Methodist  College  of  McKendree.  The  faculty,  it 
was  said,  had  a  special  meeting,  and  a  stormy  one, 
in  order  to  decide  whether  permission  could  be  given 
the  youth  to  speak  on  so  dangerous  a  topic.  In  the 
little  arch-churchy  town  it  seemed  —  aside  from  the 
boldness,  the  heterodoxy,  the  departure  from  tra- 
dition —  a  reflection  on  the  instructors  that,  after 
six  years  spent  in  study  under  their  guidance,  this 
disciple,  whom  they  had  caught  so  young,  should 
wander  far  afield  in  the  choice  of  his  subject  from 
the  matters  chiefly  and  so  importantly  taught  — 
should  stray  indeed  into  the  very  paths  of  the  sort 
of  scientific  speculation  discouraged  by  the  spirit  of 
the  school.  In  spite  of  the  conservatism  current  at 
McKendree  then,  there  must  have  been  in  its  faculty 
—  indeed  there  were  —  men  of  minds  more  open  to 
advanced  thought,  and  what  objection  existed  was 
in  the  end  withdrawn,   and   August  was  allowed, 

60 


Influences  at  Lebanon 

after  duly  submitting  his  thesis  to  the  authorities,  to 
speak  on  the  then  fresh  and  much-combated  the- 
ory of  the  origin  of  man.  August  always  believed 
that  Professor  Deneen,  the  father  of  the  present 
governor  of  Illinois,  a  man  of  strong,  though  re- 
served, personality,  had  stood  his  friend  and  advo- 
cate in  this  finale  to  his  college  life.  Professor 
Deneen  taught  Latin  at  McKendree,  and  because  of 
his  sympathy  with  the  modern,  broader  views  en- 
joyed the  confidence  of  the  students  in  a  special 
manner.  No  doubt  he  comprehended  that  the  bent 
of  August's  mind  instinctively  turned  away  from 
the  authoritative  doctrinal  aspect  of  things. 

It  was  not  indeed  possible,  under  a  scheme  of 
study  so  diametrically  opposed  to  what  could  bring 
out  the  particular  gifts,  the  genius,  he  showed  im- 
mediately afterward  at  Heidelberg,  that  August 
should  have  distinguished  himself  at  McKendree. 
He  intuitively  abhorred  methods  which  rested  on 
the  development  of  the  faculty  of  memory  alone. 

Toward  the  close  of  August's  last  semester  at 
McKendree  our  eyes  and  longing  began  to  turn  east- 
ward. In  more  than  one  sense  the  sun  was  rising  in 
those  early  years  of  the  seventies  over  Germany, 
and  August's  luck  was  once  more  with  him,  inas- 
much as  he  touched  the  soil  of  the  land  of  his 
ancestors  just  as  the  sap  of  a  new  spring  swelled  all 

61 


Augustus  Charles  Bern  ays 

its  powerful  veins  with  a  vigor  and  a  confidence 
that  had  not  been  felt  since  the  Thirty  Years'  war 
by  the  so  long  unfortunately  disrupted  and  despot- 
ridden  nation.  The  elation  all  Germany  felt  at  her 
great  victory  of  'jo-'ji  and  her  union  in  one 
great  empire  —  though  I  hardly  understood  its 
meaning  at  the  time  —  was  foreshadowed  to  me  in 
the  ecstatic  look  of  my  mother's  face  when  the  news 
of  the  surrender  at  Sedan  reached  Lebanon.  The 
mysterious  light  in  her  hazel  eyes  made  her  face  like 
that  of  a  beautiful  Madonna  that  September  night 
at  Lebanon  when  she  called  us  into  the  house  and, 
with  profound  emotion  in  her  lovely  low  voice,  told 
us  that  the  war  was  at  an  end  and  Germany  vic- 
torious. Then,  taking  Lily  and  me  by  the  hand, 
making  the  boys  precede  us,  with  our  father  she 
walked  with  us  all  the  way  through  the  town,  stop- 
ping—  as  was  not  at  all  her  wont,  for  she  was  a 
shy  and  reserved  woman  —  to  talk  to  every  one  we 
met  about  the  triumph  of  Germany. 

We  were  extraordinarily  well  prepared  to  enter 
German  schools  through  the  home  training  we  had 
had  in  the  language,  which  had  been  frequently  sup- 
plemented by  private  lessons  from  German  school- 
masters —  immigrants  stranded  for  a  time  in  Leba- 
non. A  man  named  Lohninger  had  especially  forti- 
fied us  in  grammar,  particularly  syntax,  by  making 

62 


Influences  at  Lebanon 

us  do  most  difficult  tasks  in  intricate  and  involved 
German  sentences.  Emile  Joseph,  as  well  as  some 
of  these  German  instructors,  had  also  given  us  les- 
sons in  drawing,  by  which  August  profited  most. 
Tantele  and  my  father  taught  us  French. 


63 


CHAPTER  IV 

HEIDELBERG  DAYS 

Dein  Leben  gestalte  sich  wie  ein  Gedicht 
Von  der  grossen  Versohnung  des  Gliicks  mit  der  Pflicht. 

—  Ibsen. 

"  A  man's  profession  and  his  sweetheart,"  Pro- 
fessor Michael  Bernays  once  said  to  me,  "  should 
fall  to  his  lot  without  search  or  effort  on  his  part  — 
gifts  of  the  gods."  Such  was  the  case  with  respect 
to  August  and  his  profession.  Never,  as  with  most 
boys  when  the  critical  age  arrives,  were  there  dis- 
cussions, family  councils,  or  consultations  with  in- 
structors about  what  he  was  fit  for.  Life  —  its 
growth,  its  decay,  everything  connected  with  it  — 
had  always  preeminently  interested  him.  When- 
ever there  was  an  accident  in  the  vicinity  he  drew 
close  to  the  scene,  watching  what  happened  from  as 
good  a  point  of  vantage  as  he  could  secure.  Wher- 
ever men  spoke  of  health  and  disease,  of  epidemics, 
of  remedies,  or  of  operations,  he  stood  by,  a  small 
figure  with  big  eyes,  fairly  drinking  in  what  was 
said. 

64 


Heidelberg  Days 

It  had  long  been  decided  that  as  soon  as  August 
should  have  completed  his  course  at  McKendree 
the  whole  family  was  to  be  taken  to  some  German 
university  town.  My  father  wished  to  personally 
superintend  his  son's  medical  studies.  So  in  July, 
1872,  our  party —  father,  mother,  Tantele,  we  four 
children,  accompanied  by  W.  A.  Kelsoe  and  Robert 
Liideking,  of  St.  Louis  —  embarked  together  on  a 
steamer  sailing  from  Baltimore.  Kelsoe's  intention 
was  to  prepare  himself  for  journalism  by  the  ac- 
quisition of  languages  and  through  travel;  Lude- 
king's,  to  study  medicine.  Heidelberg  having  been 
chosen  as  our  destination,  thither  our  parents  at  once 
repaired  to  rent  and  furnish  an  apartment.  August 
and  I  were  sent  to  Frankenthal  to  visit  at  the  house 
of  my  father's  brother-in-law.  Uncle  F.  was  a  re- 
cent widower,  with  a  family  consisting  of  a  son  a 
little  older  than  August,  a  daughter  just  my  age,  and 
a  younger  girl  about  Lily's  age.  We  found  the 
cousins  very  agreeable,  and  the  friendship  then 
formed  remained  cordial  and  warm.  Max,  the  son, 
had  been  for  several  semesters  a  student  of  law  at 
Wtirzburg.  He  belonged  to  a  corps,  proudly  ex- 
hibited a  recent  scar  or  two  he  had  acquired  duel- 
ing, and  immediately  ingratiated  himself  with  us 
by  his  wit  and  gayety.  He  was,  like  his  father,  an 
excellent  raconteur  —  in  fact,  the  whole  family  was 

65 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

distinguished  by  a  lively  sense  of  humor.  August 
entered  into  the  life  of  these  relatives  with  his 
usual  spirit,  especially  draining  Max  dry  by  his 
questions  about  student  life. 

September  found  us  all  once  more  together  in 
Heidelberg.  As  the  University  did  not  open  its 
doors  until  the  middle  of  October,  August,  Kelsoe, 
and  Liideking  had  time  to  tramp  all  over  the  sur- 
rounding country,  take  all  the  famous  walks  to  the 
Schloss,  the  Molkenkur,  the  Speierer  Hof,  and  to 
go  by  rail  to  the  towns  of  interest  that  cluster  thick 
in  that  historic  region  —  Speier,  Worms,  Schwetz- 
ingen,  Karlsruhe,  Darmstadt,  Frankfort  on  the 
Main,  and  other  places. 

When  August  and  Liideking  finally  went  up  on 
the  longed-for  day  the  Ruperto-Carolina  opened  her 
doors,  the  two  youths  —  both  small,  slight,  and 
beardless  —  were  rather  contemptuously  looked  over 
by  the  attending  official.  "  You  have  not  been  con- 
firmed, have  you?"  he  addressed  them  with  galling 
superciliousness.  Confirmation  is  a  rite  to  which 
the  utmost  importance  is  attached  in  Germany,  and 
which  is  rarely  omitted,  even  by  families  who  culti- 
vate religion  but  slackly.  This  ceremony  over,  a 
boy  is  admitted  to  some  of  the  privileges  of  man's 
estate,  notably  that  of  being  no  longer  addressable 
indiscriminately  by  the  familiar  "  Du."     Confirma- 

66 


Heidelberg  Days 

tion  had  not,  of  course,  been  on  the  program  of  our 
father,  nor  yet  on  that  of  the  elder  Liideking.  The 
two  youths,  taking  the  speech  literally,  stood  irreso- 
lute until  the  secretary  tauntingly  continued,  "  Well, 
are  you  over  fourteen  years  of  age?" — so  im- 
mature was  their  appearance.  August  was  just 
eighteen  and  Liideking  about  nineteen.  On  their 
announcing  their  age  and  that  they  were  "  confes- 
sionslos  "  (without  creed),  they  were  allowed  to 
matriculate.  With  zest  and  ambition  they  began 
their  career. 

It  was  an  amazing  spectacle  to  see  August,  after 
a  day  spent  at  lectures  and  at  dissecting,  pore  at 
night  over  his  thick  volumes  on  anatomy,  physiol- 
ogy, and  osteology  —  the  wild,  unruly  youth,  always 
full  of  mischief,  and  at  McKendree  so  frequently  in 
disgrace  for  inattention  and  failure  to  obtain  good 
marks,  seemed  to  have  changed  his  nature.  At 
Heidelberg  the  relation  between  books  and  life  came 
to  be  revealed.  He  found  no  waste  places  in  the 
work  laid  out  for  him  there,  and  needed  no  spur  but 
that  of  his  innate  craving  for  knowledge.  It  was, 
however,  in  the  second  year  of  his  university  life 
that  he  came  in  contact  with  the  subjects  which 
stirred  his  interest  into  a  passion  and  encountered 
the  men  who  fanned  the  flame  into  a  glow  of  life- 
long duration.     Biologv  and  comparative  anatomy, 

'67 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

and  the  work  he  did  under  Professor  Gegenbaur  and 
his  assistant,  Dr.  Max  Furbringer,  called  out  the 
fullness  of  his  enthusiasm  and  urged  him  to  a  dis- 
play of  his  utmost  energy. 

He  worked  with  a  joy  that  was  a  joy  to  see,  and 
to  no  evanescent  purpose,  as  Geheimrat  Furbringer 
sets  forth  in  the  chapter  he  kindly  contributes  to  this 
book  at  my  request.  In  letters  to  me  written  after 
my  brother's  death,  Professor  Furbringer  says: 
"  Your  brother,  by  his  scientific  researches  as  well 
as  by  his  beneficent  work  for  his  fellow-men  as  a 
surgeon,  reared  for  himself  a  monument  more  last- 
ing than  bronze."  And  again :  "  Gegenbaur  had  a 
great  influence  over  him.  Before  that  great  sun  my 
tiny  taper  pales.  But,  after  all,  it  was  the  potential- 
ity your  brother  carried  within  himself  that  mat- 
tered. It  was  because  he  had  a  mind  akin  to  Gegen- 
baur's  that  there  could  be  that  resonance  of  what 
through  his  senses  penetrated  from  the  outside. 
In  such  natures  the  roots  of  their  power  lie  within 
themselves."  Gegenbaur  undoubtedly  recognized 
this  equipment,  congenial  to  his  own,  and  greatly 
encouraged  the  youth  who  burned  to  clear  up  some 
of  the  mystery  that  surrounds  the  growth  and  de- 
velopment of  our  physical  organization.  He  was 
genuinely  regretful  when  August,  on  the  advice  of 
our  father,  turned  his  attention  from  this  first  love 

68 


Heidelberg  Days 

of  his  to  surgery.  August  himself  was  at  the  time 
most  loath  to  leave  the  morphological  work  he  so 
loved,  and  during  all  his  subsequent  life  sighed 
occasionally  as  he  cast  longing,  retrospective  glances 
at  that  first  golden  harvest  reaped  in  the  pursuit  of 
pure  science.  Even  in  the  face  of  the  conspicuous 
success  that  came  to  be  his  in  surgery,  and  the  im- 
mense amount  of  direct  and  visible  relief  he  was  able 
to  bring  to  the  suffering,  he  sometimes  half  regretted 
that  he  had  allowed  himself  to  be  drawn  away  from 
the  more  tranquil  delights  of  scientific  research. 
He  must  have  comprehended,  too,  that  the  surgeon 
resembles  the  actor  in  that  much  of  his  time  is  neces- 
sarily given  to  the  mere  use  and  interpretation  of 
what  others  have  found.  True,  he  may  invent  a 
method  that  will  outlast  a  decade  or  two  —  show 
himself  resourceful,  inspired,  when  face  to  face  with 
the  unexpected  that  lurks  everywhere  —  but  much 
of  his  inborn  and  of  his  acquired  skill  dies  with  him. 
As  the  plaudits  of  the  multitude  acclaiming  an  actor 
are  hushed  soon  after  his  death,  so,  too,  the  bless- 
ings of  those  the  surgeon  has  cured  of  disease  and 
wrested  from  death  are  ephemeral.  But  the  names 
of  those  who  discover  the  laws  that  govern  the  life 
of  our  planet,  and  thereby  increase  the  possibilities 
of  foreseeing  the  consequences  of  natural  events  and 
human  actions,  go  thundering  down  the  ages  like  an 

69 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

avalanche  that  gathers  strength  and  sound  as  it  rolls. 
The  Newtons,  the  Harveys,  the  Darwins,  the  Gegen- 
baurs,  the  Helmholtzes  are  fixed  stars,  while  the 
greatest  surgeons  have  but  the  career  of  meteors 
that  flare  up  and  soon  fall  extinguished. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed,  however,  that  during  those 
strenuous  years  of  preparation  there  was  no  play. 
August  never  could  suppress  his  vivid,  fun-loving 
temperament.  He  became  a  member  of  a  little 
"  Verbindung  "  called  Corona  Carola-Rupertensis, 
which  Ludeking,  Kelsoe,  and  a  second  cousin  of 
ours  —  a  student  of  law,  Carl  Flesch,  now  alderman 
of  the  city  of  Frankfort  and  member  of  the  Prus- 
sian diet  —  also  joined.  There  he  took  part  in  all 
the  jolly  nonsense  that  is  traditional  in  these  stu- 
dents' societies.  He  learned  to  drink  beer,  though 
his  stomach  always  rebelled  against  the  quantities 
habitually  imbibed  by  the  Germans.  He  suffered 
his  first  and  a  few  subsequent  "  Raters,"  made  and 
listened  to  "  Bierreden,"  and  joined  in  the  beautiful 
student  songs. 

There  was  the  Neckar  to  swim  in  and  row  upon, 
and  there  were  excursions  into  the  country,  which 
served  the  double  purpose  of  an  outing  and  foraging 
for  salamanders,  tadpoles,  and  other  animals  that 
had  to  give  up  their  lives  in  the  interests  of  mor- 
phology.   Lebanon  experiences  and  the  observations 

70 


Heidelberg  Days 

made  there  as  to  the  habits  of  animals  of  that  kind 
and  their  haunts  served  him  well  here.  He  was 
always  full  of  regret  that  he  could  not  lay  hands 
on  the  wealth  of  material  that  lived  and  died  in  the 
Mississippi  Valley  without  ever  a  chance  of  being 
studied  for  the  ultimate  weal  of  their  more  sentient 
and  highly  developed  brethren,  the  humans.  Re- 
flecting on  the  inaccessibility  of  these  wriggling 
reptiles  that  abounded  in  his  American  home,  once 
caused  him  to  commit  a  high-handed  robbery,  which 
I  fancy  he  executed  with  mingled  feelings  of  amuse- 
ment, exultation,  and  contrition.  Cousin  Max  re- 
cently recalled  the  story  to  my  mind.  "  Do  you 
remember,"  he  says  in  his  letter,  "  the  affair  of  the 
alligator  uncle  Charles  brought  over  from  America 
and  gave  to  August  in  1874?  August  bestowed  it 
on  me  for  my  aquarium.  Then,  when  he  had  be- 
come so  devoted  to  the  study  of  comparative  anat- 
omy, he  regretted  the  gift.  At  any  rate,  he  came 
over  to  Frankenthal  one  Sunday  and  spent  a  pleas- 
ant afternoon  with  us.  After  he  had  departed  in 
the  evening  the  little  alligator  could  not  be  found. 
It  wras  not  until  some  time  afterward  that  the  mys- 
tery of  its  disappearance  was  cleared  up,  and  I 
learned  by  accident  that  it  had  been  offered  up  on 
the  altar  of  science  in  the  Gegenbaur  laboratory. 
No  doubt  August  felt  that  to  me  it  was  only  a  toy 

7i 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

of  which  I  would  soon  tire,  and  that  the  animal  itself 
must  be  homesick  and  unhappy  in  an  uncongenial 
atmosphere  and  climate.  So,  that  to  let  it  perish  for 
an  exalted  purpose  —  quite,  as  it  were,  in  the  odor 
of  sanctity  —  was  really  acting  according  to  the 
higher  morality." 

An  incident  that  illustrates  his  strong  emotional 
nature  occurred  about  the  same  time.  Several 
American  families  were  then  living  in  Heidelberg 
who  had  been  of  my  father's  clientele  in  St.  Louis, 
and  these  consulted  their  old  physician  in  cases  of 
illness.  In  the  last  stages  of  her  fatal  illness  the 
little  daughter  of  one  of  these  families  was  his  pa- 
tient. He  had  diagnosed  tubercles  of  the  brain,  a 
diagnosis  concurred  in  by  Professor  Friedreich, 
whom  my  father  called  in  consultation,  and  ulti- 
mately verified  by  the  autopsy.  August  frequently 
accompanied  his  father  on  visits  to  the  little  unfor- 
tunate, who  was  of  course  foredoomed  to  speedy 
dissolution.  Whether  August  had  conceived  more 
than  an  ordinary  fondness  for  the  child,  or  whether, 
in  his  exuberant  optimism,  he  hoped  they  could  save 
her,  I  do  not  know.  Perhaps  he  then  for  the  first 
time  realized  in  a  flash  how,  once  launched  in  his 
profession,  he  would  be  baffled  and  vanquished, 
again  and  again,  by  death  in  spite  of  all  exertions. 
He  came  in  at  dusk  one  day  to  take  his  afternoon 

72 


Heidelberg  Days 

coffee  that  was  always  kept  warm  for  him  in  the 
oven  of  the  big  porcelain  stove  in  the  sitting-room, 
and  my  mother  gently  imparted  to  him  the  news  of 
the  child's  death.  I  seem  to  see  him  now  —  slowly 
push  aside  the  cherished  stimulant,  his  eyes  filling 
with  tears,  lay  his  head,  with  the  wavy  black  hair,  on 
his  folded  arms  on  the  table,  and  give  way  to  a  storm 
of  passionate  grief. 

In  the  third  and  fourth  years  clinical  work  was, 
of  course,  the  main  issue.  Luck  remained  August's 
auxiliary  in  giving  him  in  surgery  a  teacher  as  bril- 
liant and  as  inspiring  'as  Gegenbaur  was  in  compara- 
tive anatomy.  Soon  he  was  as  keenly  interested  in 
surgery  as  in  his  earlier  studies,  which  he  never  gave 
up,  but,  busy  as  he  was,  managed  to  carry  on  along- 
side of  clinical  work. 

Professor  Gustav  Simon,  second  in  originality 
and  attainment  to  none  of  his  contemporaries  in 
surgery,  was  not  slow  to  recognize  the  ability  of  the 
young  American  who  followed  him  about  with  such 
whole-souled  attention.  When  he  found  that  nim- 
ble fingers  were  the  concomitants  of  the  exceeding 
speed  and  accuracy  of  his  mental  processes,  he  began 
to  extend  special  privileges  to  August.  Long  before 
August  went  up  for  his  degree  he  was  frequently 
asked  to  assist  at  private  operations  of  Professor 
Simon.     As  he  had  sought  and  won  the  friendship 

73 


Augustus  Charles  Bemays 

of  Gegenbaur's  first  assistant,  so  he  also  gained  the 
good-will  of  Simon's,  Dr.  Braun,  with  whom,  in  and 
outside  the  clinic,  he  associated  pleasantly. 

With  passionate  sorrow  he  stood  at  the  death-bed 
of  his  teacher  when,  in  1876,  Simon  succumbed  to 
aneurysm  of  the  heart.  It  was  the  same  fatal  illness 
of  which  he  himself  was  to  die  thirty-one  years  later 
—  even  younger  than  Simon.  With  the  singular 
fidelity  and  gratitude  that  were  marked  spiritual 
attributes  of  his,  he  mourned  Simon,  and  never,  on 
fitting  occasion,  during  his  entire  life  did  he  fail  to 
voice  his  admiration  and  his  thankfulness  to  the 
great  teacher  who  had  guided  his  initial  steps  in 
surgery.  Simon's  place  at  Heidelberg  fell  for  a 
brief  space  to  Hermann  Lossen  until  Czerny,  a  man 
the  peer  of  Simon,  could  be  obtained  as  his  perma- 
nent successor.  It  was  Lossen  who,  in  the  summer 
of  1876,  just  after  August  had  taken  his  degree,  ap- 
pointed him  to  take  charge  of  the  surgical  section  of 
the  Heidelberg  hospital,  substituting  for  an  absent 
assistant. 

At  the  end  of  his  eighth  semester,  in  July,  1876, 
August  took  his  degree,  summa  cum  laude.  After 
such  signally  successful  work,  and  in  view  of  the 
general  consensus  of  opinion  on  his  special  aptitudes, 
this  was  to  be  expected.     Yet  it  was  the  first  time 

74 


Heidelberg  Days 

that  highest  honors  were  conferred  upon  an  Ameri- 
can at  Heidelberg. 

Our  mother  did  not  live  to  share  my  father's  joy 
in  seeing  their  son  win  this  distinction.  She  had 
died  in  December,  1874,  three  weeks  after  giving 
birth  to  our  brother  Walter.  Her  death  threw  a 
piteous  pall  over  the  home,  and  for  a  time  we  were 
like  a  ship  that  had  lost  its  rudder.  My  father 
seemed  as  if  stunned  by  the  blow,  and  all  the  long 
winter  and  spring  which  followed  he  spent  almost 
all  his  time  in  a  tiny  room,  to  which  he  had  with- 
drawn, poring  over  books.  Previous  to  her  death 
the  social  life  of  the  home  had  been  most  agreeable, 
and  we  entertained  many  visitors.  The  family  con- 
nections on  both  sides  had  been  resumed  with  alac- 
rity, and  our  house  during  the  spring  and  summer 
fairly  swarmed  with  uncles  and  aunts  and  merry 
young  cousins  from  the  Rhine  and  Taunus  country, 
where  our  parents'  relatives  still  lived.  Our  mother 
was  a  good  housekeeper  and  most  hospitable,  glad  to 
show  her  good  uncles  —  Joseph  of  Ladenburg,  and 
Fritz  and  Carl  Bertrand  from  the  Taunus  —  that 
she  had  not  forgotten  the  many  kindnesses  received 
at  their  hands  in  youth,  proud  of  her  little  brood, 
and  anxious  to  make  her  children  acquainted  with 
their  European  relatives.     My  father's  people  were 

75 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

equally  welcome.  The  accessibility  and  the  beauty 
of  Heidelberg  made  it  a  point  not  to  be  neglected. 
Various  of  the  young  men,  Fleschs  and  Creizenachs 
from  Frankfort,  as  well  as  our  cousin  Max  from 
Frankenthal,  pursued  their  medical  and  legal  studies 
at  Heidelberg  for  some  semesters,  and  often  dropped 
in  or  were  asked  for  Sunday  dinner,  to  the  rapid 
furtherance  of  our  acquaintance  with  German  senti- 
ments and  ideas  and  of  our  conversational  agility  in 
the  language. 

Many  Americans  came  over  in  1873  *0  Y1S1^  the 
Vienna  exposition.  Professor  Thomas  Davidson, 
the  great  scholar,  was  our  guest  for  a  time.  He 
came  accompanied  by  Arthur  Little  and  the  gifted 
Arthur  Amson,  who  had  been  a  schoolmate  of  ours 
at  Werz'  in  St.  Louis  when  we  were  little  children. 
A  photograph  of  a  group  consisting  of  Davidson 
and  his  two  pupils,  together  with  Kelsoe,  Liideking, 
and  August,  at  cards  and  beer,  was  taken  that  sum- 
mer, and  has  been  several  times  reproduced  in  St. 
Louis  papers.  Friedrich  Hecker,  whom  our  parents 
had  known  in  St.  Clair  County;  Madison,  one  of  the 
St.  Louis  street  railway  magnates  of  the  time; 
Madame  Strothotte,  and  last,  but  not  least,  uncle 
CharLes  and  aunt  Pepi,  were  with  us  for  short  or 
long  visits,  as  the  case  might  be,  during  the  sum- 
mers of  1873  and  1874.     Uncle  was  taking  a  year's 

76 


Heidelberg  Days 

vacation,  which,  however,  did  not  mean  entire  free- 
dom from  work.  He  wrote  a  series  of  brilliant 
travel  letters  for  the  Anzeiger  during  this  absence 
from  St.  Louis.  But  he  was  suffering  from  angina 
pectoris,  and,  after  spending  the  winter  of  1874-75 
in  Italy,  returned  at  the  end  of  March  to  Heidelberg 
a  very  sick  man.  There  were  complications  of  his 
trouble.  My  father  called  in  Friedreich  and  other 
high  authorities,  who  puzzled  over  the  case,  and  I 
believe  finally  called  it  neurasthenia.  August  was 
much  in  attendance  in  uncle's  sick-room,  and,  if  he 
did  not  profit  much  in  the  science  of  diagnosis 
as  revealed  by  the  physicians  there,  he  certainly 
heard  many  a  wise  counsel  from  the  lips  of  the  sick 
philosopher,  which  he  may  or  may  not  have  taken  to 
heart.  In  the  subsequent  unfolding  of  his  life  the 
faculty  of  synthesizing,  which  my  uncle  possessed, 
and  the  gift  of  foreseeing  the  distant  consequences 
of  action,  commended  itself  to  the  nephew,  and  was 
used  in  conjunction  with  the  training  in  analysis, 
emphasized  by  the  sciences  to  which  his  Heidelberg 
studies  had  been  devoted.  The  combination,  in  just 
proportion  of  the  inductive  and  deductive  methods 
of  reasoning,  was  certainly  what  later  made  his  diag- 
noses so  astonishing.  Almost  from  the  moment  of 
beginning  his  practice  "  in  difficult  obscure  diag- 
noses," I  have  been  told,  "  he  often,  on  seemingly 

77 


Augustus  Charles  Bemays 

slight  premises,  contradicted  others  who  had  made 
thorough  examinations,  and  was  found  right  fre- 
quently enough  to  make  his  gift  seem  uncanny  and 
give  a  sort  of  credence  to  the  saying  that  he  had  sec- 
ond sight." 

This  brings  me  to  speak  of  one  of  my  brother's 
most  conspicuous  attributes,  sometimes  numbered 
among  his  glaring  faults  —  his  gorgeous  and  exu- 
berant imagination,  which  led  him  in  the  ordinary 
affairs  of  life  to  often  overstate  the  case.  Undoubt- 
edly he  inherited  from  some  Semitic  ancestor  — 
though  our  father  had  it  not  —  this  mental  trait  of 
seeing  at  times,  in  all  the  splendor  of  Oriental  design 
and  color,  and  in  gigantic  proportions,  that  which 
to  the  jejune  and  matter-of-fact  appeared  as  gray, 
quotidian,  and  of  ordinary  dimensions.  "  He  would 
discourse  and  describe,  and  sometimes  paint  the  most 
vivid  and  startling  pictures ;  but  they  were  what  his 
mind  saw  —  sober  facts  to  him,"  says  one  of  his  in- 
timates. Nothing  to  me  seems  more  obvious  than 
that  it  was  this  very  power  of  the  imagination,  con- 
trolled and  tempered  by  his  severe  training  in  scien- 
tific fact-gathering  and  analysis,  but  never  wholly 
suppressed,  which  gave  him  what  appeared  as  preter- 
natural superiority  in  reading  the  truth  in  obscure 
cases.  His  knowledge  of  normal  human  anatomy 
was  the  firm  basis  of  his  judgments,   into  which 

78 ' 


Heidelberg  Days 

imagination  did  not  enter,  but  morphology  had 
taught  him  something  of  the  fanciful  workings  of 
nature  as  she  evolves  one  form  from  another.  Ru- 
dimentary organs,  remnants,  and  vestiges  from  a 
previous  stage  of  development  were  familiar  to  him 
from  his  embryological  work,  and  he  knew  that 
here  disease  often  sets  in  with  its  benignant  and 
malignant  growths,  and  causes  strange  disturbances 
in  the  human  equilibrium.  At  such  points  his  im- 
agination acted  not  only  as  a  striking  and  picturesque 
factor  of  his  mentality,  but  as  a  useful  and  essential 
one.  Applied  without  the  curb  of  long  practical 
research  and  severe  tests  of  truths  in  affairs  not 
medical,  abetted,  besides,  by  the  American  delight  in 
superlatives  and  overstatements,  his  estimates  and 
his  narratives  were  indeed  often  a  hit  or  a  miss,  a 
careless  guess  or  gamble,  or  a  delicious  flight  of  pure 
fancy  which  he  expected  no  one  to  take  seriously. 
Dry  and  literal  people  judged  this  idiosyncrasy  or 
gift  with  severity,  and  accused  him  of  gross  habitual 
exaggeration.  His  enemies  —  of  which  he  came  in 
after  years  to  have  a  considerable  number  —  flatly 
called  it  lying.  But  as  he  often  acted  in  most  im- 
portant affairs,  notably  in  his  financial  transactions, 
upon  what  he  averred,  it  is  clear  to  those  who  knew 
him  best  that  the  convolutions  of  his  brain  were  not 
constituted  like  those  of  the  plain,  sober  citizen  who 

79 


Augustus  Charles  Bemays 

follows  his  nose,  or  that  the  life  principle  that 
coursed  through  them  was  of  a  particular  quality. 
He  took  obstacles  and  overleaped  objections,  and 
acted  on  intuition,  seeing  frequently  as  likely  as 
within  his  grasp  what  to  others  appeared  but  as  a 
dim  and  altogether  negligible  potentiality. 


80 


CHAPTER  V 

AN  INTERLUDE  BY  PROFESSOR  FURBRINGER 

My  acquaintance  with  Augustus  Bernays  began 
in  the  spring  of  1874,  when  I  entered  upon  my 
duties  as  prosector  of  the  Anatomical  Institute  of 
Heidelberg,  of  which  Carl  Gegenbaur,  on  the  retire- 
ment of  Friedrich  Arnold,  had  become  the  director. 
Augustus  Bernays,  then  twenty  years  old,  the  son  of 
Dr.  George  J.  Bernays,  had  been  studying  at  Heidel- 
berg since  the  winter  of  1872-73,  the  pupil  in 
anatomy  first  of  Friedrich  Arnold  and  then  of  C. 
Gegenbaur.  His  father  was  a  member  of  the  dis- 
tinguished Bernays  family,  represented  at  that  time 
in  the  universities  of  Germany  by  Jacob  Bernays, 
the  erudite  professor  of  philology  and  head  librarian 
at  the  university  of  Bonn,  and  by  Professor  Michael 
Bernays,  the  celebrated  lecturer  on  the  history  of 
literature  at  Leipzig  and  Munich,  far-famed  also 
as  a  student  of  Goethe  and  Shakespeare. 

Heidelberg  University  had  at  that  time  a  deserv- 
edly great  reputation  in  science.  Among  its  teach- 
ers of  medicine  and  natural  science  it  then  numbered 

81 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

Friedrich  Arnold  in  anatomy,  Nicolaus  Friedreich 
for  the  clinical  study  of  medicine,  Gustav  Simon  in 
surgery,  Otto  Becker  in  ophthalmology,  Robert  Bun- 
sen  in  chemistry,  and  Gustav  Kirchhoff  in  physics. 
This  famous  galaxy  of  names,  together  with  agree- 
able reminiscences  of  his  student  life,  probably  in- 
duced Dr.  George  Bernays  to  select  Heidelberg  as 
the  institution  best  suited  to  provide  his  son  with  the 
culture  and  proficiency  in  his  profession  he  coveted 
for  him. 

August's  initial  studies  received  special  guidance 
through  the  lectures  of  the  famous  Friedrich  Arnold 

—  lectures  of  supreme  polish,  both  as  to  form  and 
content  —  as  well  as  by  that  master's  personal,  most 
devoted  attention  to  the  work  in  the  dissecting 
room.  Arnold  repeatedly  testified  to  the  exceptional 
application  and  splendid  success  of  young  Bernays 
in  the  exercises  he  conducted.  But  to  Carl  Gegen- 
baur,  who  took  over  the  chair  of  anatomy  at  Heidel- 
berg in  1873,  the  decisive  and  directive  element  in 
the  career  of  the  young  student  must  be  attributed. 
This  man  of  genius,  this  pioneer  of  modern  scientific 
investigation,  came  to  Heidelberg  in  the  fullness  of 
his  intellectual  power.  As  a  reformer  of  the  science 
of  anatomy,  as  a  comparative  —  i.  e.,  as  a  thinking 

—  anatomist  he  appeared,  and  whoever  was  fortu- 
nate enough  to  get  into  close  touch  with  his  marvel- 

82 


An  Interlude  by  Professor  Filrbringer 

ous  mind,  with  his  forceful  and  magnetic  person- 
ality, remained  bound  as  if  by  a  spell.  Augustus 
Bernays  became  his  enthusiastic  pupil.  He  did  not 
neglect  his  other  studies  in  natural  sciences,  physi- 
ology and  histology  —  Kiihne  more  than  once  com- 
mended his  zeal  in  attending  his  lectures  and  courses 
—  still,  the  main  current  of  his  thought  was  directed 
toward  anatomy.  From  the  winter  semester  of 
1873-74  to  the  spring  of  1876  he  heard  Gegen- 
baur's  lectures  on  human  anatomy,  embryology,  and 
comparative  anatomy,  and  worked  as  an  advanced 
student  in  the  anatomical  laboratory.  Even  after 
he  had  attended  the  clinics  of  Berlin  and  Vienna  he 
.devoted  every  hour  that  was  his  own  to  research 
work  in  anatomy  with  Gegenbaur.  All  the  summer 
vacation  and  what  spare  hours  he  could  muster  in 
the  fall  of  1877,  after  he  had  left  Vienna  and  before 
he  went  to  London,  were  pressed  into  service  in 
order  to  complete  the  second  of  his  anatomical  in- 
vestigations. The  first  had  been  his  dissertation 
for  the  "  Doctor  medicinse  heidelbergensis,"  acquired 
with  such  signal  distinction  in  July,  1876. 

It  was  not  long  before  I  grew  fond  of  young  Ber- 
nays, meeting  him,  as  I  did,  immediately  on  my 
arrival  and  seeing  him  daily  thereafter.  Unlike  the 
present  time,  with  its  quickened  and  feverish  activi- 
ties, when  almost  everybody  lacks  the  leisure  to  col- 

83 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

lect  his  thoughts  and  become  really  acquainted  with 
his  neighbor,  the  Heidelberg  Anatomical  Institute 
in  the  seventies  of  the  last  century  was  a  flourishing 
little  oasis  of  friendships  and  cordial  intercourse. 
In  its  scantily  furnished  apartments  there  then 
worked,  besides  Bernays,  in  productive  analyses  and 
research,  E.  Rosenberg,  prosector  of  the  University 
of  Dorpat,  M.  Helm,  Lorent,  J.  Palmen,  J.  Brock, 
W.  Lecle,  M.  von  Davidoff,  and  others.  I  was  first 
assistant  and  prosector,  and  E.  Calberla  and  G. 
Ruge  were  respectively  second  and  third  assistants. 
What  a  happy  time  we  had!  What  enthusiasm 
inspired  us  for  our  great  teacher,  Gegenbaur,  and 
for  the  work  laid  out  for  us!  What  youthful 
ardor !  What  sprightliness !  What  mutual  attach- 
ment and  what  a  continuous  exchange  of  the  results 
we  achieved  and  the  thoughts  thereby  engendered ! 
It  was  the  springtime  of  my  life,  and  there  was  the 
same  bourgeoning  of  ideas  in  the  minds  of  all  the 
little  band.  Helm,  Brock,  Calberla,  and  Lorent 
died  young.  Rosenberg  became  professor  of  anat- 
omy at  Dorpat  and  afterward  at  Utrecht;  Palmen, 
professor  of  zoology  at  Helsingfors;  Lecle,  profes- 
sor of  zoology  at  Stockholm;  Davidoff,  director  of 
the  zoological  laboratory  at  Villefranche  sur  Mer; 
Ruge,  professor  of  anatomy  first  at  Amsterdam  and 
afterward  at  Zurich. 

84 


An  Interlude  by  Professor  Furbringer 

Augustus  Bernays  was  one  of  the  brightest  and 
most  cheerful  of  all  this  throng,  and  at  the  same 
time  perhaps  the  most  eager  and  diligent  at  his 
work.  He  stands  before  my  memory  as  in  life  — 
in  stature  below  middle  size,  with  large,  black,  flash- 
ing eyes,  his  face  aglow  with  enthusiasm,  his  youth- 
ful gestures  and  movements  quick  as  thought,  for 
fear  of  wasting  a  minute  of  the  time  allotted  to  his 
beloved  work.  I  recall  also  his  splendid  zeal  in 
going  out  to  forage  for  and  collect  the  material  for 
our  research  work,  as  well  as  his  indefatigability  in 
using  the  microscope.  And  what  a  merry  comrade 
he  was,  always  frank  and  ready  to  help  others,  bub- 
bling over  with  life,  with  humor,  with  all  the  charm- 
ing traits  that  belong  only  to  really  good,  pure,  and 
unselfish  natures.  He  was  like  a  brother  to  us 
all,  and  Gegenbaur,  too,  was  especially  fond  of 
him.  The  best  proofs  of  the  professor's  affection 
were  the  long  scientific  talks  they  used  to  have, 
based  on  Bernays'  researches.  It  was  evidently  a 
joy  to  Gegenbaur  to  draw  out  this  highly  gifted, 
ceaselessly  active  pupil,  and  to  help  mature  his 
thought,  which  even  at  that  early  period  was  thor- 
oughly original.  During  the  first  year  of  my  ac- 
quaintance with  Augustus  I  met  also  his  father  and 
his  younger  sister,  Thekla,  and  was  repeatedly  a 
guest  at  their  hospitable  home. 

85 


Augustus  Charles  Bemays 

"  After  work  well  done,  rest  is  sweet."  With  us 
this  proverb  read,  "  After  work  well  done,  enjoy- 
ment of  life  is  sweet."  We  could  all  assert  without 
conceit  that  we  had  not  wasted  our  time,  so  that  our 
leisure  was  well  deserved.  The  great  diversity  of 
previous  experience  and  the  variety  in  the  cultural 
development  of  the  workers  in  our  laboratory, 
springing,  as  they  did,  from  the  most  distant  coun- 
tries, naturally  led  to  a  vivacious  and  highly  differ- 
entiated exchange  of  ideas.  Much  scientific  and 
artistic  stimulation  could  be  obtained  in  the  univer- 
sity town  as  well  as  in  the  neighboring  city  of 
Mannheim.  The  marvelous  environs  of  Heidelberg 
—  the  Odenwald,  the  Black  Forest,  the  vine-covered 
hills  of  the  Palatinate  —  sent  out  their  lure.  Espe- 
cially on  days  when  the  laboratory  had  to  be  given 
over  to  the  scrubbing  rage  of  the  servants  did  we 
go  off  on  excursions  into  these  beautiful  regions. 
In  these  outings  sometimes  the  Bernays  family  par- 
ticipated. How  lovely  the  world  seemed !  How 
bright  the  sun  shone  on  all  that  glorious  region,  re- 
splendent with  the  golden  green  of  the  early  leafage, 
the  bountiful  blossoming  of  the  spring! 

In  Neuenheim,  just  across  the  Neckar,  the  well- 
known  musician  and  composer,  George  Vierling,  a 
rugged,  whimsical,  most  original  old  fellow,  a  true 
child  of  the  Palatinate,  spent  his  summers.     He  was 

S6 


An  Interlude  by  Professor  Fiirbringer 

not  a  genius,  but  a  very  learned  composer,  a  man  of 
broad  and  thorough  culture  that  did  not  stop  at 
music.  Because  of  his  services  in  unearthing  some 
of  Bach's  long-lost  compositions,  he  is  entitled  to 
the  gratitude  and  homage  of  all  time.  Around  him 
we  young  fellows  congregated  with  pleasure,  and 
in  animated  disputes  and  discussions  with  us  he 
renewed  his  youth.  Introduced  by  him  to  the  Flor- 
entine Quartette  (the  Becker  family  of  Mannheim), 
we  became  habitues  of  their  house,  which  gratui- 
tously opened  its  doors  only  to  those  specially  recom- 
mended by  a  person  of  consequence.  There  we 
thrilled  to  the  eternal  beauty  of  Haydn's,  Mozart's, 
Beethoven's,  Schumann's,  and  Schubert's  chamber 
music,  and  there  our  souls  first  responded  to  the 
glory  and  the  splendor  of  Brahms.  The  Mannheim 
Theater,  with  its  great  Schiller  traditions,  at  that 
time  rejoicing  in  an  excellent  ensemble  that  included 
some  conspicuous  stars,  was  no  less  an  attraction  to 
our  susceptible  little  band. 

A  spring  jaunt  to  Baden-Baden,  when  the  pines 
showed  dark  against  a  border  of  fruit  trees  in  their 
fresh  light-green  leafage  and  their  vivid  blossoms, 
I  hold  in  grateful  remembrance.  How  close  to  each 
other  we  felt!  How  friend  Bernays  romped  on 
ahead  of  us  all  through  meadows  and  forests  !  How 
he  reveled  in  the  opulence  of  the  flowers,  with  the 

87 


Augustus  Charles  Bemays 

bees  and  butterflies  and  other  insects  hovering  and 
humming  about  them!  Of  all  things  in  nature  he 
had  knowledge,  had  interest  for  all,  and  from  all 
he  derived  pleasure. 

The  fruits  of  his  work  with  Gegenbaur  are  the 
two  important  monographs,  "  The  Development  of 
the  Auriculo- Ventricular  Valves  of  the  Heart "  and 
"  The  Development  of  the  Knee-joint,  with  Obser- 
vations on  Joints  in  General,"  both  of  which  were 
published  in  Gegenbaur's  Morphologischem  Jalir- 
buchj  the  first  in  No.  4  of  Volume  II,  1876  (pages 
478  to  518),  with  tables  XXXII  and  XXXIII,  and 
the  latter  in  No. 3  of  Volume  IV  (pages  401  to  446), 
with  table  XXI.  Both  are  permeated  with  Gegen- 
baur's very  spirit  —  the  desire  for  the  causal  under- 
standing of  facts  revealed  by  the  most  penetrating 
and  all-embracing  research;  the  combined  methods 
of  embryology  and  comparative  anatomy  brought  to 
bear  on  the  solution  of  the  problem;  the  striving  to 
connect  the  isolated  findings,  and  by  generalization 
to  discover  the  far-reaching  laws  which  govern 
them.  But  absolute  originality  is  preserved  by  the 
author  —  all  results  brought  to  light  are  in  the  full- 
est sense  of  the  word  the  property  of  Bernays.  His 
spirit  was  but  impregnated  by  that  of  his  teacher. 

It  is  not  possible  to  reproduce  in  a  few  lines  the 
rich  results  of  his  researches.     Those  who  are  inter- 

88 


An  Interlude  by  Professor  Furbringer 

ested  in  such  work  will  find  them  fascinating  read- 
ing that  will  amply  repay  the  student,  for  both 
treatises  are  distinguished  by  the  lucid  and  forcible 
presentation  of  the  facts  and  by  the  convincing 
power  of  their  diction. 

In  the  study  on  the  auriculo-ventricular  valves  of 
the  heart,  continuing  along  lines  previously  worked 
by  Gegenbaur,  the  exact  proof  is  given  by  an  un- 
broken chain  of  embryological  findings  that  the 
auriculo-ventricular  valves,  together  with  the  for- 
mations that  belong  to  them,  spring  in  the  main 
from  the  myocardium  of  the  chambers  of  the  heart. 
Bernays  succeeded,  furthermore,  in  showing  by  the 
examination  of  early  ontogenetic  stages  and  the 
comparative  study  of  lower  vertebrates  that  this  per- 
manent development  of  the  valves  was  preceded  by 
a  transitory  stage  of  an  endocardial  nature,  similar 
to  that  of  the  semi-lunar  valves ;  that  simultaneously 
the  development  of  the  tissues  in  the  wall  of  the 
heart  enter  upon  a  gradual  complication,  and  that 
even  the  fully  developed  heart  may  reveal  to  the 
practiced  eye  isolated  stages  of  this  development  in 
unmistakable  remnants  of  the  earlier  conditions. 

His  treatise  on  the  knee-joint  extends  far  beyond 
the  consideration  of  this  joint  alone.  Based  on  the 
examination  of  numerous  stages  of  development, 
and  taking  into  exact  account  the  tissue  changes,  it 

89 


Augustus  Charles  Bemays 

gives  a  history  of  the  growth  of  this  joint  and  of 
joints  in  general.  In  opposition  to  former  teach- 
ing, it  is  shown  in  this  treatise  that  the  specific  shape 
of  the  joint  surfaces  of  the  cartilages  which  later 
form  a  joint  are  ontogenetically  developed  before 
the  formation  of  the  joint  cavity,  and  at  a  time 
when,  in  respect  to  the  movement  of  parts  of  the 
skeleton,  muscles  capable  of  functionating  are  not 
yet  developed  —  that  is  to  say,  independently  of  any 
muscle  action.  It  is  only  after  this  that  the  differ- 
entiation of  the  joint  cavity  and  of  all  the  associated 
apparatus  occurs.  The  semi-lunar  cartilages,  the 
capsule,  the  crucial  ligaments,  and  all  accessory  liga- 
ments develop  in  loco  out  of  the  indifferent  tissues 
which  are  situated  partly  between  the  cartilaginous 
ends  of  the  joints  and  partly  covering  these;  the 
synovial  membrane  is,  from  a  developmental  stand- 
point, a  pure  connective  tissue,  the  inner  surface  of 
which  is  not  covered  with  epithelium. 

Both  of  these  contributions  of  Bernays  to  research 
were  investigations  giving  furtherance  of  uncom- 
mon importance  not  only  to  the  science  of  the  period 
of  their  publication,  but  even  now,  that  thirty-four 
and  thirty-six  years  respectively  have  elapsed  since 
they  were  written,  they  remain  absolutely  abreast 
of  contemporary  anatomy.  Indeed,  within  recent 
years  the  researches  of  Braus  have  corroborated  in 

90 


An  Interlude  by  Professor  Fiirbringer 

every  point  the  correctness  and  the  great  importance 
of  Bernays'  work  on  the  development  of  the  joints. 
Along  these  two  lines  worked  by  him,  we  are  in- 
debted to  Bernays  and  to  his  teacher,  Gegenbaur,  for 
the  greatest  advances  made  in  this  direction. 

After  Augustus  Bernays  had  left  Heidelberg  in 
1877,  and  had  rejoined  his  family  in  St.  Louis,  stop- 
ping in  London  only  a  short  time  to  take  the  degree 
of  M.  R.  C.  S.,  I  heard  and  read  of  him  on  many 
occasions.  I  learned  through  some  of  his  American 
colleagues  how  devotedly  he  was  working  for  the 
good  of  his  fellow-men,  and  of  the  appreciation  and 
admiration  he  enjoyed  in  the  medical  and  scientific 
circles  of  his  country.  The  scientific  publications 
he  sent  me  from  time  to  time  attest  the  originality 
of  his  thought — "On  the  Relation  Between  Cells 
and  Microorganisms"  (Chicago,  1886),  and  his 
meritorious  work  in  the  service  of  surgery  ( Surgical 
Clinic,  St.  Louis,  1895).  One  of  these  papers  bears 
the  manuscript  dedication,  "  In  remembrance  of  the 
dear  old  days  with  Gegenbaur." 

In  the  year  1905  I  last  had  the  joy  of  seeing  him 
again  in  Heidelberg,  together  with  his  sister.  Sor- 
row for  the  death  of  my  only  son,  whose  intellectual 
development  had  inspired  such  high  hopes,  prevented 
manifestations  of  vivid  joy.  But  we  understood 
one  another  instantly  as  of  old,  and  our  hearts  grew 

9i 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

warm  in  the  exchange  of  reverential  memories  of 
our  great  master,  who  had  died  in  1903.  There 
was  a  project  afoot  to  place  a  bust  of  Gegenbaur  in 
the  Anatomical  Institute  of  Heidelberg.  Without 
my  asking  his  subscription,  friend  Bernays  con- 
tributed with  a  princely  gift  to  the  sum  which  was 
being  collected  for  the  erection  of  this  monument. 
His  manner  in  doing  this,  as  well  as  his  sympathy  in 
what  concerned  me,  was  eloquent  proof  of  the  deli- 
cacy of  his  feeling,  of  the  faithfulness  and  tender- 
ness of  his  attachment.  That  was  my  last  meeting 
with  him. 

There  are  emanations  of  the  Psyche,  full  of  mo- 
mentary delight  confined  to  the  heyday  of  youth. 
Every  creature  is  charming  and  attractive  at  the  art- 
less period  of  his  springtime  of  life.  With  increas- 
ing age  his  horns  grow,  and  in  the  struggle  for  life 
calculating  egoism  is  bred  and  continues  to  increase 
to  greater  and  greater  proportions.  Nearly  all  hu- 
man beings  pass  through  the  stages  of  this  develop- 
ment. Few,  comparatively  speaking,  retain  their 
unspotted  youth  fulness,  their  inner  warmth,  until 
the  time  of  maturity.  But  only  those  who  do  are 
really  worth  while.  Augustus  Bernays  belonged  to 
this  small  class.  Unto  death  he  remained  true  to 
himself  and  to  his  ideals.  To  the  last  his  heart  beat 
warmly,  beat  impulsively,  as  in  the  days  of  his  youth. 

92 


An  Interlude  by  Professor  Fiirbringer 

Kindness  of  heart,  gratitude,  fidelity,  idealism,  and 
the  indefatigable  urge  for  truth,  knowledge,  and  per- 
fection were  the  unvarying  stimuli  of  his  life.  I 
have  often  wondered  with  a  touch  of  sadness  that  it 
should  be  so  —  why  this  man,  who  seemed  created 
to  make  a  wife  happy  and  to  found  a  family,  re- 
mained unmarried.  Did  the  watchful  affection  of 
the  sister  who  ministered  to  his  spiritual  as  well  as 
to  his  material  wants,  who  took  an  interest  in  his 
work,  prevent  his  feeling  the  need  of  another  attach- 
ment ?  Did  he  find  no  woman  who  corresponded  to 
his  high  standard,  measured  by  the  sister  he  so  loved 
and  revered  ?  Enough  —  he  departed  from  us  with- 
out leaving  progeny. 

Yet  to  us  he  is  not  dead.  His  work,  his  benefac- 
tions, his  creations,  assure  him  immortality  —  the 
lasting  grateful  remembrance  of  his  contemporaries 
as  well  as  of  posterity. 

In  my  own  heart  his  memory  is  treasured  as  that 
of  one  of  the  noblest  men  I  encountered  in  life. 


93 


CHAPTER  VI 

BERLIN,  VIENNA,  LONDON 

Pleasure  is  the  reflex  of  unimpeded  energy. —  Sir  William 
Hamilton. 

After  August  had  had  his  little  taste  of  managing 
a  hospital  in  the  fall  of  1876  in  Heidelberg,  he  went 
to  Berlin  for  a  special  course  under  Langenbeck,  the 
greatest  surgeon  of  the  time,  whom  he  came  to  ad- 
mire greatly  and  of  whom  he  always  spoke  as  the 
prince  of  surgeons.  Langenbeck,  too,  lost  no  time 
in  singling  out  August  as  superiorly  gifted,  invited 
him  to  visit  at  his  house,  and,  after  the  surgical 
course  in  which  August  distinguished  himself  by  his 
skill  and  readiness  was  finished,  suggested  to  him, 
even  urged  him,  to  offer  his  services  to  Russia  as 
an  army  surgeon  in  the  war  that  country  was  then 
waging  on  Turkey.  Of  his  own  accord  he  fur- 
nished him  with  letters  of  introduction  to  Russian 
generals  and  diplomats.  He  gave  him  an  authori- 
tative letter  for  general  use  —  in  our  country  it 
would  have  begun,  "  To  whom  it  may  concern  " — 

94 


Berlin,   Vienna,  London 

bearing  the  official  seal  and  signed  by  him  as  director 

of   the   Chirurgisch-Klinisches   Institut,    of   Berlin, 

which  reads  as  follows  : 

26  April,  1877. 

Der  Doctor  medicinse  A.  C.  Bernays,  aus  St.  Louis,  begiebt 

sich   auf  den  Kriegschauplatz   um  der  Kaiserlich  Russischen 

Armee   seine  arztliche   Beihilfe   anzubieten.     Es   gereicht  mir 

zur  Freude  den  Dr.  Bernays  als  einen  sehr  tiichtigen,  prac- 

tischen   Chirurgen  auf   das   warmste  empfehlen,  und  als   fiir 

die  Leitung  eines  Kriegslazareths  besonders  geeignet  bezeich- 

nen  zu  konnen.  _  T 

B.  von  Langenbeck, 

Professor    der    Chirurgischen   Klinik   an   der    Universitat   zu 

Berlin. 

Translated  into  English,  the  letter  would  read: 

April  26,  1877. 

A.  C.  Bernays,  M.  D.,  of  St.  Louis,  is  about  to  go  to  the 
seat  of  war  in  order  to  offer  his  medical  services  to  the  im- 
perial Russian  army.  It  gives  me  pleasure  to  most  warmly  rec- 
ommend Dr.  Bernays  as  a  very  thorough,  practical  surgeon,  and 
to  be  able  to  mention  him  as  especially  fitted  to  take  charge 

of  a  military  hospital.  _  _ 

B.  von  Langenbeck, 

Professor  of  the  Surgical  Clinic  at  the  University  of  Berlin. 

This,  from  the  surgeon  who,  during  that  fierce 
and  bloody  struggle  of  the  Franco-Prussian  war  six 
or  seven  years  previous,  had  drawn  the  eyes  of  the 
world  to  his  own  achievements,  was  tremendous 
encouragement  to  a  youth  of  twenty-two.     Before 

95 


Augustus  Charles  Bemays 

August,  however,  made  up  his  mind  to  show  himself 
deserving  of  this  confidence  in  his  ability,  and  to 
turn  to  account  this  exceptional  chance  of  winning 
distinction,  the  war  ended. 

In  Berlin  August  heard  the  lectures  of  the  most 
brilliant  scientific  men  of  that  epoch  of  wonderful 
forward  striding  in  science.  In  the  one  semester  he 
studied  there  these  men  did  not,  of  course,  become 
endeared  to  him  as  his  Heidelberg  masters  had  been. 
Still,  he  gained  a  vivid  impression  of  their  person- 
ality, and  always  esteemed  it  a  great  privilege  to 
have  stood  face  to  face  with  and  to  have  actually 
heard  the  voices  of  such  men  as  Virchow,  Helm- 
holtz,  and  Dubois-Reymond. 

The  old  musical  composer  and  director,  G.  Vier- 
ling,  of  whom  Professor  Max  Fiirbringer  speaks  in 
the  preceding  chapter,  resided  in  Berlin  during  the 
winter.  As  an  old  friend  of  my  father  and  uncle, 
he  had  promised  to  keep  an  eye  on  August,  who  was 
for  the  first  time  in  his  life  left  to  his  own  resources 
in  a  metropolis.  It  happened  that  a  sort  of  mentor 
and  guardian  did  not  come  amiss.  Soon  after 
August's  arrival  in  the  big  city,  at  a  restaurant 
where  August  was  supping  with  friends,  a  burly  and 
boorish  German  student  behaved  with  such  rude- 
ness that  August's  quick  blood  was  up  in  resentment. 
Cards  were  exchanged,  seconds  chosen,  and  a  duel 

96 


Berlin,  Vienna,  London 

arranged  —  August,  with  true  American  spirit,  de- 
manding pistols  for  weapons.  In  some  way  knowl- 
edge of  the  affair  came  to  Vierling,  who  went  to  the 
greatest  trouble  to  smooth  out  the  ruffled  feelings 
of  the  cocky  combatants,  and  finally  succeeded  in 
inducing  the  prime  offender  to  admit  his  rudeness 
in  an  explanatory  statement  and  express  regret,  dis- 
claiming the  intention  to  insult.  Thereupon  the 
duel  was  abandoned. 

August's  companions  in  Berlin  were  of  lighter 
caliber  than  his  Heidelberg  friends.  He  always 
smiled  when  he  thought  of  them.  One  was  a  Span- 
iard named  De  Castro,  another  the  rollicking  Irish- 
man, Charlie  Tanner  (who  later  became  a  notorious 
and  quite  obstreperous  member  of  the  British 
Parliament),  and  an  American  named  Nightingale, 
of  whose  subsequent  fortunes  I  never  heard.  The 
four  were  advanced  in  their  medical  studies,  taking 
special  courses,  and  less  bound  to  hard  and  fast 
hours  than  students  who  had  not  taken  their  degree. 
In  the  evening  they  played  as  hard  as  they  studied 
in  the  forenoon,  some  of  them,  from  all  accounts, 
harder.  They  were  frequent  visitors  at  the  theaters, 
and  especially  devoted  to  the  operettas  and  musical 
comedies  then  in  vogue.  Nor  did  they  scorn  the 
music  halls,  known  at  that  time  by  the  expressive 
name    of   Tingel-tangel.     Professor   Vierling    fur- 

97 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

nished  them  tickets  and  occasions  to  hear  more 
serious  music,  and  drew  them  into  the  musical  and 
artistic  circles  he  frequented.  It  was  in  Berlin,  too, 
that  August  began  the  practice  he  followed  through- 
out his  life  of  frequenting  galleries  of  art  and  the 
studios  of  painters  and  sculptors,  for  the  German 
capital  even  then  possessed  excellent  examples  of  the 
best  schools  of  painting,  and,  though  not  many 
originals  of  fine  sculpture,  at  least  casts  of  the  great 
works  that  form  the  basis  of  study  —  an  abundance 
for  a  beginner. 

But  it  goes  without  saying  that  he  hovered  about 
the  Charite  every  morning,  and  many  an  afternoon 
as  well,  and  never  afterward  did  he  visit  Berlin 
without  going  to  this  favorite  medical  haunt  of  his. 
Whenever  we  were  there  together  he  always  dragged 
me  thither,  and  showed  me  the  scene  of  his  exploits, 
dwelling  reverentially  on  the  great  teachers  he  had 
there  known  who  had  died,  but  whose  spirit  he  felt 
to  be  alive  in  himself  and  in  the  fellow- workers  who 
had  shared  their  guidance  with  him. 

He  always  retained  a  liking  for  the  peculiar  tart 
wit  of  the  Berlin  people.  The  odd  mixture  of 
sauciness  and  good  nature  in  their  temperament  ap- 
pealed to  his  own  fun-  and  spice-loving  disposition. 
Their  very  dialect  attracted  him  —  unpleasing  and 
unmelodious  as  it  is  —  because  of  its  drastic  effects, 

98 


Berlin^   Vienna,  London 

and,  though  he  had  not  in  an  intimate  sense  mas- 
tered its  vocabulary  and  its  excrescences  of  accent 
and  of  grammar,  he  sometimes  attempted  to  use  it 
in  a  modified  form  in  order  to  give  local  color  to 
some  story  or  reminiscence.  The  Berlin  type  of 
woman  was  also  to  his  taste  —  fair-haired,  buxom, 
pink-cheeked,  healthy,  light-hearted  lassies,  quick 
and  pungent  at  repartee,  never  backward  in  manner. 
Their  vivacious  prattle,  their  frank  enjoyment  of  the 
superficial  and  sensuous  pleasures  of  life,  the  undis- 
guised and  sometimes  slangy  expression  of  their 
feelings  and  desires,  amused  him  and  appealed  to  the 
child  in  him,  which,  indeed,  never  quite  grew  up. 
In  every  way  the  Doctor  made  the  most  of  his 
winter  in  the  German  capital,  observing,  assimilating 
the  ways  of  the  bigger  world,  while  intent  on  per- 
fecting himself  in  his  specialties. 

It  was  in  Berlin  that  he  was  induced  by  Dr.  Fred- 
erick Dennis,  of  New  York,  at  a  dinner  given  by 
Langenbeck,  to  enter  the  examination  for  the  degree 
of  the  Royal  College  of  Surgeons  of  England  before 
returning  home  to  engage  in  practice.  The  consent 
of  our  father  to  pass  another  examination  was  not 
difficult  to  obtain.  Previous  to  his  taking  this  step, 
however,  eager  to  see  every  phase  of  the  develop- 
ment of  modern  surgery,  August  repaired  to  Vienna 
for  the  summer  semester  and  took  a  course  under 

99 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

Billroth,  then  at  the  height  of  his  fame  and  his 
popularity.  Billroth  was  the  darling  of  the  aristo- 
cratic ladies  of  the  gay  Austrian  capital,  a  handsome 
and  magnetic  man,  whose  achievement  as  a  pianist 
added  an  artistic  nimbus  to  his  halo  as  a  great  sur- 
geon. August  was,  however,  not  as  strongly  at- 
tracted by  him  as  he  had  been  by  Simon  and 
Langenbeck,  and  seems  to  have  absorbed  less  from 
him  than  from  his  former  teachers.  He  was  brood- 
ing, too,  at  that  time  over  the  work  on  the  knee- 
joint  begun  in  Gegenbaur's  laboratory  during  the 
Easter  vacation,  and  was  eager  to  be  back  in  Hei- 
delberg to  work  out  his  ideas.  The  only  friend- 
ship I  remember  that  he  formed  in  Vienna  was  one 
with  Walter  Stallo,  eldest  son  of  the  Cincinnati 
judge,  afterward  our  ambassador  to  Italy,  which 
was  of  short  duration,  as  young  Stallo  died  of  con- 
sumption soon  after  his  return  to  the  United  States. 
Evidently  the  pall  of  death  already  hung  over  this 
youth  when  August  knew  him,  and  aroused  his  pity- 
ing sympathy.  It  called  forth  a  response  of  feeling 
in  the  young  man  of  a  more  than  usual  fervor. 
August  told  me  once  in  a  wondering,  subdued,  half- 
hesitant  fashion  that  Stallo  had  kissed  him  on  the 
day  they  parted  —  a  touch  of  most  unusual  demon- 
strativeness  on  the  part  of  an  American  youth. 
London  the  Doctor  enjoyed,  as  he  had  Berlin, 

ioo 


Berlin,  Vienna,  London 

with  the  vivacity  and  buoyancy  of  his  twenty-three 
years.  He  probably  read  up  a  little  for  the  impend- 
ing examination,  and  most  assiduously  visited  the 
hospitals  and  clinics  where  the  foremost  surgeons 
could  be  found,  making  the  acquaintance  of  Sir 
Joseph  Lister,  Sir  Spencer  Wells,  and  others  whose 
names  I  do  not  recall.  I  still  preserve  the  blue  and 
yellow  cards  citing  him  respectively  to  the  anatom- 
ical and  physiological  examination  on  November  7th 
at  "  two  forty-five  precisely,"  and  to  the  pass  or  final 
examination  at  "four  fifteen"  on  November  13th. 
They  are  signed  Edward  Trimmer,  secretary,  and 
required  first  the  payment  of  five  pounds  five  shil- 
lings and  again  of  six  pounds  fifteen  shillings  —  not 
a  great  sum  considering  the  pleasure  and  profit 
derived. 

Albert  Bernays,  cousin  of  my  father,  professor 
of  chemistry  at  St.  Thomas'  Hospital,  London,  was 
at  the  time  one  of  the  renowned  scientific  men  of 
England,  an  author  of  many  works  in  his  specialty. 
His  eldest  son,  Sydney,  a  little  older  than  August, 
was  also  a  medical  student,  and  the  two  young  men 
quickly  became  friends.  August  lived  in  modest 
lodgings  on  the  Lambeth  Road,  on  an  allowance  so 
slender  that  in  after  years,  when  he  had  become 
somewhat  of  a  spender  and  a  gourmet,  he  was  often 
moved  to  smiles  as  he  thought  of  the  frugal  fare 

101 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

on  which  he  had  there  subsisted.  Mutton  chops  and 
baked  potatoes  were  the  delicacies  he  knew  in  those 
days,  a  rather  monotonous  diet,  furnished  him  by 
his  landlady.  She  was  a  kind  and  cheery  soul,  he 
used  to  say,  and  saw  that  his  Spartan  fare  came  at 
least  piping  hot  to  his  room.  He  visited  the  family 
of  Professor  Albert  Bernays  frequently,  where,  with 
British  scorn  of  the  foreign  name  of  August,  they 
called  him  by  his  second  name,  Charles,  and  the  visit 
of  Dr.  Charles  remains  a  memory,  or  rather  a  tradi- 
tion, with  the  only  surviving  son  of  this  family,  then 
a  very  young  child.  As  cousin  Charles,  August  was 
also  introduced  to  the  family  of  Edwin  Arthur  Ber- 
nays, the  engineer  so  efficient  in  the  building  of  the 
Chatham  docks.  Sydney  and  he  often  called  at  the 
Chatham  house,  where  the  main  attraction  to  them 
was  a  group  of  pretty  daughters.  "  Going  over  to 
kiss  the  Chatham  cousins,"  they  called  these  excur- 
sions. It  was  through  Professor  Albert  Bernays 
that  August  was  presented  to  Huxley.  He  was  in- 
vited to  the  Huxley  residence  for  Sunday  evening 
tea,  where,  as  he  frequently  related  with  joy  and 
reverential  awe  in  the  remembrance,  he  once  had  the 
great  good  fortune  to  see  Charles  Darwin,  leaning 
on  the  arm  of  his  wife,  enter  and  join  in  the  even- 
ing's discussion  and  recreation. 

The  degree  of  M.  R.  C.  S.  acquired  with  flying 

102 


Berlin,  Vienna,  London 

colors,  August  embarked  for  home  in  December, 
1877,  on  a  steamer  called  America,  which  a  day  out 
from  shore  collided  with  an  Italian  bark,  with  dis- 
astrous results  to  herself,  but  no  loss  of  life.  The 
passengers  were  obliged  to  help  the  crew  pump  out 
the  water  that  rushed  through  a  hole  in  the  side  of 
the  vessel,  and  she  had  to  be  towed  back  to  port. 
Whether  August  waited  for  the  completion  of  her 
repairs  or  took  another  steamer,  I  do  not  remember. 
He  arrived  at  home  just  before  the  New  Year  of 
1878. 

My  father,  with  all  the  family  except  Clem,  who 
was  left  in  Heidelberg  to  complete  his  chemical 
studies,  had  returned  to  St.  Louis  in  the  previous 
May.  In  order  to  be  in  closest  touch  with  his 
brother,  he  had  purchased  a  house  adjoining  that  of 
uncle  Charles,  on  the  corner  of  Eleventh  and 
Chambers  streets.  There  he  resumed  his  practice, 
launched  August  on  his  career,  and  there  he  died, 
eleven  years  later,  on  December  16,  1888. 


103 


CHAPTER  VII 

PREJUDICE  AND  SUPERSTITION 

Better  a  day  of  strife 

Than  a  century  of  sleep. —  Father  Ryan. 

Of  the  average  youth  who  hangs  out  his  sign, 
A.  C.  Bernays  had  a  tremendous  start.  He  came 
into  a  growing  city  of  the  Middle  West,  fortified  not 
only  with  youth  and  health,  and  the  ordinary  degree 
of  accomplishment,  but  knowing,  as  he  must  have 
known,  that,  exceptionally  fitted  out  by  nature,  he 
had  had  exceptional  opportunities  which  he  had  used 
with  exceptional  diligence  and  enthusiasm.  The 
best  educators  of  the  world  had  trained  him  for  a 
career  he  loved,  had  unanimously  manifested  a 
warm  and  special  interest  in  him,  had  drawn  him 
into  their  intimacy,  and  had  supported  his  innate 
confidence  in  himself  by  testimonials  which  admitted 
of  no  doubt  as  to  his  capacity  and  equipment  for  his 
profession. 

Nature  had  been  lavish  toward  him.  She  had 
given    him   senses    which   were    well-nigh   perfect. 

104 


DR.   BERN  AYS    IN   THE    YEAR    HE    ENTERED    ON    THE    PRACTICE 
OF    HIS    PROFESSION    IN    ST.    LOUIS. 


Prejudice  and  Superstition 

His  eyesight,  hearing,  and  senses  of  smell,  taste, 
and  touch  were  keen  with  an  alertness  that  was 
doubly  valuable  to  one  who  knew  how  much  de- 
pended on  their  instantaneous  and  exact  action  and 
reaction.  They  had  come  unimpaired  through  a 
childhood  that  was  singularly  free  from  influences 
deteriorating  or  contaminating  to  health,  free  from 
overtaxation  and  harmful  excitements.  They  had 
first  been  trained  in  the  observation  of  nature  under 
the  guidance  of  vigilant  parents,  and  afterward, 
when  he  specialized  for  his  profession,  under  that 
of  his  supreme  European  masters.  His  very  occu- 
pation, which  emphasized  primarily  the  functions  of 
the  body,  made  him  necessarily  conscious  of  his 
advantages  in  this  respect,  and  laid  on  him  as  a  duty 
that  which  was  at  the  same  time  a  delight  —  the 
perfecting  of  his  sense  perceptions.  Some  one  said 
of  him  once  that  he  had  lamps  at  the  end  of  his 
fingers,  so  delicate,  so  intelligent,  so  illuminated 
from  the  brain  was  his  touch.  But,  besides  the 
lamps  at  his  fingers'  ends,  he  had  eyes  behind  his 
eyes  and  ears  behind  his  ears,  the  flair  of  the  hunter, 
the  tongue  and  palate  of  a  gourmet,  and,  above  and 
beyond  this,  his  physical  senses  were  exalted  and 
sublimated  by  flashes  of  a  powerful  imagination. 
A  system  had  thus  devised  itself  in  his  body  and 
mind  of  recording  and  associating  impressions  and 

105 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

drawing  conclusions,  so  swift  and  sure  that  it  par- 
took of  the  phenomenal  and  struck  not  only  the 
layman  as  mysterious  and  savoring  of  the  miracu- 
lous. 

After  an  absence  of  eleven  years  from  the  scene 
of  his  former  activity,  my  father's  efforts  to  reestab- 
lish his  practice  in  St.  Louis  were  beginning  to  have 
effect.  His  reputation  for  conscientious  work  when 
August  arrived  had  not  been  entirely  forgotten, 
and  he  was  soon  able  to  give  the  boy  a  chance  to 
exhibit  his  knowledge.  Lister  had  a  few  years 
prior  inaugurated  the  era  of  antiseptics,  and  the 
Germans  eagerly  took  up  his  ideas  and  perfected 
them.  To  August,  asepsis  appealed  strongly  from 
the  first.  To  exclude  the  possibility  of  infection, 
or  at  least  to  minimize  the  danger  of  it,  was,  he 
knew,  the  sine  qua  non  of  success  in  surgery.  In 
word  and  deed  he  became  one  of  the  most  insistent 
and  effective  pioneers  of  asepsis,  and  some  of  his 
devices  and  methods  for  sterilizing  and  cleansing 
whatever  may  come  in  contact  with  the  patient  are 
now  in  use  with  a  majority  of  his  colleagues  in  vari- 
ous parts  of  the  world.1 

1  One  of  Dr.  Bernays'  practical  devices  must  have  made  and  is  still 
making  fortunes  for  those  to  whom  he  gave  the  idea.  The  Bernays 
tablets  have  been  in  use  since  1886  or  1887,  I  am  told,  and  are  uni- 
versally used  in  sterilizing,  before  operation,  articles  that  may  come  in 
contact  with  the  patient.  They  are  prepared  by  triturating  bichlorid  of 
mercury   with  citric  acid,  and  even  the  general   public  now  buys  them. 

IO6 


Prejudice  and  Superstition 

In  St.  Louis,  until  he  arrived  on  the  scene,  lap- 
arotomies had  had  a  fatal  habit  of  terminating  in 
Bellefontaine  or  Calvary  Cemetery,  so  that  the 
practitioners  then  accounted  most  skillful  had  ta- 
booed these  operations.  In  an  astonishingly  short 
time  this  condition  changed.  August's  cases  of 
laparotomy  —  some  of  them  involving  large  ovarian 
tumors  now  rarely  seen  —  recovered  with  regularity 
and  promptness,  whereupon,  with  characteristic  in- 
clination to  superstition,  his  "  luck " —  not  his 
superior  skill  —  was  first  commented  on  as  a  phe- 
nomenon. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  at  that  time  there 
was  not  a  hospital  in  St.  Louis  which  would  not  now 
be  condemned  as  utterly  unfit  for  the  scene  of  major 
operations.  Perhaps  this  insufficiency  was  instinc- 
tively felt  by  the  public.  At  any  rate,  there  was  a 
reluctance  on  the  part  of  people  able  to  care  for 
their  sick  to  send  them  to  a  hospital,  so  that  a  great 
part  of  his  operative  work  had  to  be  done  in  private 
houses  under  circumstances  necessarily  most  un- 
favorable. Such  conveniences  and  such  insurance 
of  freedom  from  the  dangers  of  infection  and  other 


Long  before  the  Doctor  died  they  had  circled  the  globe,  and  acquaint- 
ances wrote  to  him  that  they  had  employed  these  tablets  in  Australia 
and  South  Africa.  Another  practical  invention  of  his,  the  Bernays 
sponges,  commended  by  Senn  in  his  book  on  surgery,  were  used  by 
our  surgeons  with  success  throughout  the  Spanish-American  war. 

107 


Augustus  Charles  Bemays 

disturbances  as  are  now  universal,  my  brother's 
work  knew  not  for  many  years  after  he  began. 
Over  and  above  these  dispiriting  drawbacks,  preju- 
dice and  superstition  on  the  part  of  the  family  and 
friends  of  the  patients  sometimes  added  special  and 
grotesque  horrors  to  the  situation. 

Dr.  Barck  once  described  to  me  an  operation 
executed  with  his  assistance  by  my  brother  under 
circumstances  that  would  have  paralyzed  a  man  of 
less  indomitable  nerve.  It  was  during  the  time  Dr. 
Barck  and  my  brother  were  associated  in  conducting 
a  small  hospital  on  Chouteau  avenue  and  Ninth 
street  in  the  early  eighties  of  the  last  century.  The 
patient,  a  negro,  was  suffering  from  an  immense 
growth  on  the  femur.  The  operation  had  to  be 
performed  in  his  miserable  hovel  with  the  help  of 
Dr.  Barck,  the  only  other  person  present  being  the 
negro  janitor  of  their  hospital,  who  was  to  clean  up 
before  and  after  the  surgeons  work.  The  colored 
people  of  the  neighborhood,  Dr.  Barck  told  me, 
somehow  conceived  the  idea  that  an  unjustifiable 
experiment  was  being  attempted  on  one  of  their 
race.  Armed  with  cudgels  and  coal  shovels,  and 
whatever  instruments  of  vengeance  first  came  to 
hand,  they  began  to  gather  on  the  threshold  and 
cluster  round  the  windows  of  the  scene  of  action, 
with  murmurings  that  soon  grew  to  loud  threats. 

1 08 


Prejudice  and  Superstition 

When  the  door  was  barred  in  their  faces,  some  of 
them  made  a  rush  for  it,  hoping  to  batter  it  down, 
but  luckily  it  was  strong  enough  to  resist.  Mean- 
while the  operator  went  on  with  seemingly  perfect 
unconcern,  and  with  unperturbed  swiftness  and  dex- 
terity, with  his  difficult  work,  calling  on  his  aid  for 
what  assistance  with  needles  and  instruments  the 
case  exacted,  without  so  much  as  betraying  that  he 
knew  he  might  never  finish  his  task  —  might  be 
obliged  to  defend  his  life.  The  operation  com- 
pleted, the  young  surgeon  stepped  out  and  harangued 
the  mob,  showing  the  ugly  specimen  he  had  removed 
from  the  unfortunate  man's  thigh,  and  explaining 
that  the  patient  had  been  given  the  only  chance  for 
his  life  and  future  usefulness.  His  manner  was  so 
frank  and  assured,  and  the  corpus  delicti  so  con- 
vincing, that  the  group  dispersed  abashed  and  awed. 
The  negro  got  well  and  lived  for  a  number  of  years. 
To  the  poor,  ignorant  creatures  the  deed  seemed  un- 
canny. August  told  me  several  times,  when  coming 
home  late,  as  we  passed  a  lonely  spot  or  waited  on 
some  dark  corner  for  one  of  the  slow  horse  or  mule 
cars  of  those  days,  and  I  expressed  some  alarm, 
that  he  was  not  afraid  of  the  negro  as  many  people 
are.  Most  of  them,  he  said,  knew  of  him  and  his 
work,  for  news  travels  fast  among  them  by  word 
of  mouth.     He  believed  that  in  their  superstitious 

109 


Augustus  Charles  Bemays 

minds  the  idea  had  become  fixed  that  he  possessed 
supernatural  powers  and  a  charmed  life.  Another 
reason  —  one  he  did  not  mention  —  which  insured 
him  a  certain  amount  of  safety  was  the  fact  that  he 
was  constantly  extending  kindnesses  to  the  wretched 
and  improvident  of  their  race,  who  were  then  even 
more  numerous  than  they  are  now.  He  did  not 
despise  them,  but  for  them,  as  for  all  living  things, 
he  had  a  feeling  of  tenderness  and  pity.  To  him 
they  were  merely  undeveloped  —  many  stages  be- 
hind the  Caucasian  race.  With  his  faith  in  the 
possibilities  of  evolution,  with  his  knowledge  of  the 
progress  that  may  take  place,  even  if  centuries  multi- 
plied by  centuries  are  required  for  the  consumma- 
tion, he  had  no  harshness,  no  uncondoning  condem- 
nation, for  their  crudenesses  and  their  savageries. 
His  patience  with  them  was  even  greater  than  with 
white  people  when,  on  rare  occasions,  we  had  col- 
ored servants.  Their  habitual  shortcomings  of 
shiftlessness  and  unreliability  I  found  most  trying, 
and  I  did  not  hesitate  to  have  them  up  for  a  good 
scolding  when  I  thought  they  needed  it.  Of  such 
severity  the  Doctor  disapproved.  Their  oddities  of 
speech,  their  quaint  conceits,  their  cheerfulness  and 
spurts  of  characteristic  humor,  their  sometimes  di- 
rect and  practical  —  oftener  devious  and  preju- 
diced —  ways  of  reasoning  amused  him.     He  never 

no 


Prejudice  and  Superstition 

wearied  of  chuckling  at  their  peculiar  mental  antics 
any  more  than  he  ever  grew  tired  of  watching  the 
gambols  of  cats  and  dogs,  the  movements  of  horses 
or  birds,  or  of  any  creatures  that  drew  the  breath  of 
life. 

His  controversy  with  the  St.  Louis  Medical  So- 
ciety on  questions  of  the  code  of  ethics  occurred  in 
the  very  early  years  of  his  practice.  Charges  were 
brought  against  him  for  violation  of  this  ancestral 
instrument  on  the  ground  that  the  newspapers  had 
on  several  occasions  printed  articles  commenting  on 
his  novel  and  successful  work.  He  considered  it  a 
far  greater  wrong  to  make  a  mystery  of  medical 
science  —  to  hide  the  discoveries  as  well  as  the  mis- 
takes made  by  the  profession  —  than  to  fail  of  hom- 
age to  the  obsolescent  code,  so  that  when  it  was  pro- 
posed to  "  investigate "  him  by  a  committee  ap- 
pointed of  this  body,  he  curtly  and  brusquely  sent 
his  resignation,  to  take  immediate  effect,  which  was, 
of  course,  accepted. 

This  severance  of  connection  with  the  medical 
society  was  an  apparent  hindrance  to  him  in  his 
career,  both  because  it  prejudiced  some  wealthy  citi- 
zens —  not  in  the  habit  of  doing  their  own  thinking 
—  against  him  and  because  he  was  prevented  from  * 
reporting  and  exhibiting  his  cases,  and  proving  his 
skill,  before  the  largest  body  of  medical  men  in  the 

in 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

city,  organized  to  assemble  regularly  and  to  discuss 
subjects  of  mutual  interest.  On  the  other  hand,  to 
be  left  standing  alone  in  the  open,  on  principles  of 
progress,  good  sense,  and  frankness,  in  opposition 
to  old  fogyism  and  ancient  formalism,  draping  itself 
in  empty  dignity  and  enveloping  itself  with  foolish 
mystery,  made  him  the  Ibsenesque  "  strong  man  " 
—  steeled  him  for  the  fight  and  showed  him,  in  his 
isolation,  brave,  undaunted,  a  pioneer  of  "  more 
light,"  a  blazer  of  new  paths. 


112 


CHAPTER  VIII 
EARLY  SUCCESS  — CURIOUS  CASES 

Dispatch  is  better  than  discourse.  The  shortest  way  of  all 
is  doing. —  Anon. 

Young  Dr.  Bernays  thus  soon  became  the  syno- 
nym of  masterfulness.  The  timid,  the  wary,  the 
envious  of  the  fraternity  shook  their  heads,  and 
solemnly  warned  their  acquaintances  that  his  "  ex- 
periments "  were  unjustifiable,  unwarranted,  un- 
ethical. All  this  did  not  keep  the  "  experiments  " 
from  saving  life  after  life  that  had  been  despaired 
of  by  those  who  had  neither  the  skill  nor  the  cour- 
age to  cope  with  seemingly  hopeless  situations. 
After  a  while  it  began  to  dawn  upon  some  of  the 
younger  doctors,  and  then  even  upon  the  older  ele- 
ment of  the  profession,  that  it  was  not  blind  luck 
that  accompanied  mere  intrepidity  in  his  work,  but 
that  a  phenomenal  familiarity  with  anatomy,  rare 
foresight,  swiftness,  skill,  and  resourcefulness  were 
the  firm  foundation  of  these  exploits. 

To  make  an  ideal  surgeon,  the  scientific  man  must 

113 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

combine  with  the  artist.  This  rare  merging  took 
place  in  my  brother.  He  defined  science  as  "  the 
knowledge  of  the  laws  which  govern  the  universe." 
In  the  sense  that  he  knew  the  laws  which  govern 
the  human  organism  as  well  probably  as  any  living 
surgeon,  he  was  a  scientific  man  of  great  qualifica- 
tions. As  every  one  who  ever  witnessed  an  opera- 
tion of  his  attests,  he  was  also  an  artist.  His  natural 
deftness,  readiness  of  decision  and  quickness  in 
action,  together  with  his  mastery  of  the  technic, 
made  his  work  in  the  doing  as  well  as  in  the  result 
esthetic,  artistic. 

He  told  me  once  that  plastic  operations  were  his 
forte.  One  who  is  certainly  well  fitted  to  judge, 
Dr.  Willard  Bartlett,  says  that  he  did  plastic  work 
better  than  any  other  surgeon  he  has  ever  seen.  To 
quote  Dr.  Bartlett  further :  "  In  goiter  and  refined 
dissecting  operations  about  the  neck  his  work  shone, 
because  he  knew  his  anatomical  ground  so  exactly, 
and  could  avoid  the  veins  and  arteries  that  lie 
thickly  in  that  region  and  are  so  dangerous  to  tap. 
One  of  the  operations  he  did  particularly  well  was 
resection  of  the  lower  jaw.  In  the  hands  of  most 
surgeons  this  is  a  dirty,  bloody  job,  but  your  brother, 
somehow,  was  able  to  accomplish  it  with  dexterity 
and  dispatch,  and  little  loss  of  blood." 

All  his  life  he  took  the  greatest  interest  in  this 

114 


Early  Success  —  Curious  Cases 

branch  of  his  art,  and  in  the  course  of  his  extensive 
practice  accomplished  feats  that  to  a  layman  appear 
hardly  credible,  as  when  in  1892  he  did  the  ter- 
rible operation  mentioned  in  Dr.  Cottam's  bibliog- 
raphy, at  the  end  of  this  volume.  The  French 
Revue  Internationale  de  Rhinologie,  Otologie  et 
Laryngologie  promptly  asked  and  received  permis- 
sion to  reprint  the  account  of  this  extraordinary 
performance,  in  which  he  seems  to  have  removed 
about  half  of  the  patient's  face,  prolonging  life  for 
over  a  year.  Harelip,  the  making  of  new  noses, 
skin  transplanting,  all  work  in  which  accuracy  of 
eye  and  delicacy  of  hand  are  essentials,  brought  out 
the  artistic  side  of  his  endowment.  In  making  a 
new  nose,  his  wonderful  eye  for  dimensions  showed 
itself  best.  Dr.  Bartlett,  speaking  of  this,  said: 
"  In  reconstructing  the  nose  he  always  cut  the  flap 
of  exactly  the  right  size  from  the  forehead." 

Brilliant  diagnoses,  with  concomitant  operations 
to  prove  them,  kept  bringing  out  the  inner  vision  the 
young  doctor  had  of  the  pathological  conditions. 
Of  some  of  these  that  happened  early  in  his  career 
I  have  accounts  in  my  scrap-book.  One  was  a 
nephrolithotomy,  an  operation  for  stone  in  the  kid- 
ney. The  case  had  been  seen  by  various  surgeons 
in  Chicago,  St.  Paul,  and  Minneapolis,  none  of 
whom  had  been  able  to  determine  what  ailed  the 

115 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

patient,  who  for  twelve  years  had  been  suffering 
with  attacks  of  cramps  in  the  abdomen.  After  a 
thorough  examination,  young  Dr.  Bernays,  by  ex- 
clusion, arrived  at  the  idea  that  the  man  had  stone 
in  the  kidney.  Chemical  and  microscopic  analysis 
substantiated  this  opinion,  which  the  operation,  bril- 
liantly done,  verified.  The  young  man  made  a 
rapid  recovery,  and  returned  to  his  home  in  the 
North,  leaving  in  the  Doctor's  hands  as  a  trophy 
the  stone,  about  the  size  and  shape  of  a  lima  bean, 
studded  all  over  with  shining  crystals  —  a  "  beauti- 
ful specimen."  Only  about  twenty-eight  cases  of 
the  kind  were  previously  known,  so  that  the  instance 
was  conspicuous  for  rarity  as  well  as  for  difficulty 
of  diagnosis  and  success  of  the  operation. 

Assurance  and  self-confidence  —  innate  gifts  of 
my  brother  —  naturally  grew  with  the  repeated  per- 
formance of  extraordinary  feats.  But  if  a  certain 
boastfulness  sometimes  got  the  better  of  his  truer 
self  —  which  toward  the  great  pathfinders  in  science 
was  all  modesty,  and,  in  the  face  of  what  remained 
to  be  accomplished,  all  humility  —  he  was  at  least 
able  to  substantiate  boasts.  Many  a  time  when  he 
had  an  ovariotomy  to  do,  not  where  all  was  in 
readiness,  arranged  by  trained  persons,  in  a  well- 
appointed  hospital,  but  in  an  ordinary  private  house 
—  rarely  in  the  residences  of  the  rich  —  he  would 

116 


Early  Success — Curious  Cases 

bet  that  he  could  do  it  in  five  minutes,  and  win  his 
bet.  Such  being  his  capacity,  nothing  could  keep 
him  from  forging  rapidly  to  the  front  rank. 
Neither  could  anything  keep  the  major  part  of  his 
colleagues  all  over  the  world,  nor  yet  the  public  at 
large,  from  recognizing  his  superiority.  From 
neighboring  states  physicians  began  to  clamor  for 
an  invitation  to  his  clinics,  and  medical  men  of  note 
going  East  or  West,  in  passing  through  St.  Louis, 
stopped  to  make  his  acquaintance.  His  liberality 
and  generosity  in  imparting  information  became  a 
byword.  He  made  no  distinctions,  recognized  no 
caste  feeling.  The  humble  and  unknown  were  made 
as  welcome  as  the  wealthy,  the  experienced,  the  dis- 
tinguished, and  the  influential.  Homeopaths  and 
eclectics  were  not  excluded,  nor  scorned  in  inter- 
course, nor  refused  a  meeting  in  consultation. 

For  a  period  of  years  he  published  his  results  in  a 
series  of  papers  he  called  "  Chips  from  a  Surgeon's 
Workshop."  Later  he  contributed  frequently  to 
various  medical  journals  —  not  always  to  the  most 
renowned,  but  as  his  unfailing  good  nature  dictated 
and  with  his  characteristic  inability  to  refuse  an 
article  when  it  was  demanded,  even  though  it  meant 
burying  a  novel  and  valuable  idea  in  an  obscure  pub- 
lication. For  a  year,  or  possibly  two  years,  he  was 
engaged  in  general  practice.     Very  soon,  however, 

117 


Augustas  Charles  Bernays 

he  limited  himself  to  surgery,  refusing  to  see  cases 
which  had  not  first  been  seen  by  the  family  physician 
and  by  such  a  one  referred  to  him.  He  was  the 
first  surgeon  in  St.  Louis,  and  to  within  a  very  few 
years  of  his  death  the  only  one,  who  both  proclaimed 
and  practiced  this  exclusiveness. 

He  kept  up  an  extended  correspondence  with 
medical  men  all  over  the  world  on  the  subject  of 
cases,  views,  differences  of  opinion,  or  concordances 
of  theories.  Among  his  peers  in  the  United  States 
this  exchange  of  letters  was  most  frequent  with 
Nicholas  Senn,  of  Chicago,  and  Howard  Kelly,  of 
Baltimore.  Both  of  these  friends  he  often  met 
either  in  their  home  cities  or  whenever  they  visited 
St.  Louis,  and  with  both  remained,  as  long  as  he 
lived,  on  the  most  cordial  terms.  In  the  case  of  Dr. 
Kelly  this  was  remarkable  because  of  their  antipodal 
convictions  on  religious  matters.  This  proves  con- 
clusively that  where  my  brother  encountered  true 
piety  and  genuine  belief,  supported  by  the  practicing 
of  the  preachment,  in  an  intellectual  equal,  he  not 
only  tolerated,  but  respected,  the  tenets  held.  Dr. 
Kelly,  from  letters  found  in  my  brother's  files,  was 
as  much  grieved  at  my  brother's  attitude  of  agnos- 
ticism as  Dr.  Bernays  was  amazed  at  and  lacking 
in  understanding  of  the  type  which  clings  to  an 
authoritative  creed,  claiming  to  possess  the  whole 

118 


Early  Success  —  Curious  Cases 

truth,  while  serving  and  studying'  science.  To  my 
brother  may  be  applied  what  John  Jay  Chapman,  in 
his  beautiful  essay  on  "  Learning,"  thus  expresses : 
"  In  the  higher  regions,  in  which  science  is  synony- 
mous with  the  search  for  truth,  science  partakes  of 
the  nature  of  religion.  It  purifies  its  votaries;  it 
speaks  to  them  in  cryptic  language,  revealing  cer- 
tain exalted  realities  not  unrelated  to  the  realities 
of  music,  or  of  poetry,  or  of  religion.  The  men 
through  whom  this  enthusiasm  for  pure  science 
passes  are  surely,  each  in  his  degree,  transmitters 
of  heroic  influence,  and  in  their  own  way  they  form 
a  kind  of  priesthood.  It  must  be  confessed,  too, 
that  this  priesthood  is  peculiarly  the  product  of  the 
nineteenth  century.', 

Such  sensational  and  dramatic  circumstances  at- 
tended some  of  the  cases  that  came  to  young  Dr. 
Bernays  that  they  could  not  escape  wide  publicity. 
From  the  first  he  refused  to  work  in  the  dark,  con- 
vinced that  the  most  glaring  light  could  not  harm  a 
fair  man  who  was  honestly  seeking  truth.  With 
utter  scorn,  heedlessly  and  frequently  expressed,  he 
looked  upon  those  who  would  not  teach  to  all  who 
could  learn  the  special  artifices  and  devices  they  had 
found  to  alleviate  suffering  and  restore  health.  It 
was  Dr.  Bernays  who  scored  when  one  of  his  bitter 
opponents,  a  man  of  position  and  reputation,  said, 

119 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

"  Bernays  is  a  fool  to  teach  everybody  the  tricks 
and  secrets  of  his  profession." 

Perhaps  the  case  which  was  most  widely  dis- 
cussed, because  of  its  extraordinary  rarity  and  an 
element  of  grotesqueness  that  attached  to  it,  was 
the  gastrotomy  for  the  removal  of  a  swallowed 
table  knife.  In  South  St.  Louis,  on  November  17, 
1886,  a  tailor  named  Joseph  Hoffman,  in  the  exhila- 
ration consequent  on  a  supper,  accompanied  by 
copious  draughts  of  beer,  was  exhibiting  his  skill  as 
a  sword  swallower,  a  trick  in  which  he  had  some 
previous  experience.  On  that  occasion  the  knife 
which  he  had  inserted  into  his  esophagus  slipped 
from  his  fingers  and  entered  the  stomach.  Dr.  Hugo 
Kinner,  the  family  physician,  was  called  in.  He  at 
once  telephoned  to  our  house,  and  was  informed 
that  the  "  young  Doctor  "  was  giving  his  sisters  and 
some  friends  a  theater  party  at  the  Olympic.  So 
he  called  up  the  theater.  I  remember  the  knock  at 
the  door  of  the  box,  August's  swift  disappearance, 
and  radiant  reappearance  a  few  minutes  afterward, 
saying  in  a  loud  whisper  of  distinct  delight  to  Dr. 
Barck,  who  was  of  the  party,  "  A  man  has  swal- 
lowed a  knife;  come  on,  Barck."  Then  rapidly 
commending  his  sisters  to  the  care  of  the  remaining 
male  guest,  he  departed  with  eager,  shining  eyes. 

120 


Early  Success  —  Curious  Cases 

Early  next  morning  I  knocked  at  the  door  of  his 
room,  which  was  above  the  office  in  a  separate  build- 
ing on  Eleventh  street,  next  to  our  residence  on 
Chambers  street.  He  opened  the  door  quickly,  and 
before  I  could  speak  pulled  a  silver-plated,  ten-inch 
table  knife  out  of  his  pocket,  saying,  "  Here  it  is," 
and,  chuckling  with  glee,  related  the  details  of 
the  extraordinary  adventure.  The  man  recovered 
within  a  fortnight,  and  was  not  a  bit  the  worse  for 
having  harbored  for  an  hour  or  so  in  his  stomach 
so  strange  an  object,  nor  for  having  undergone  the 
operation  on  a  hastily  prepared  extension  table  in 
his  humble  home  by  the  light  of  a  few  coal-oil 
lamps,  borrowed  from  and  held  by  the  neighbors 
who  volunteered  to  do  such  service,  while  they 
looked  on  at  the  weird  spectacle.  When  my  brother 
called  on  the  subject  of  the  adventure  the  following 
morning  he  found  him  so  unconcerned  that  his  first 
question  was,  "  Doctor,  when  can  I  have  a  drink  of 
beer  ?  "  After  his  recovery  he  got  many  a  treat 
of  his  favorite  beverage  at  the  expense  of  people 
who  enjoyed  hearing  him  tell  the  story  and  describe 
his  sensations  of  that  night.  The  waltz  song, 
"  Anna,  zu  Dir  ist  mein  liebster  Gang,"  from  the 
operetta,  "  Nanon,"  which  we  were  witnessing  that 
night,   as  popular  for  a  time  then  as  the  Merry 

121 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

Widow  waltz  came  to  be  in  recent  years,  inevitably 
conjured  up  in  the  minds  of  all  our  family  the  vision 
of  the  tailor  who  swallowed  the  table  knife. 

An  important  and  unusual  case  was  that  of 
Murty  O'Sullivan,  a  policeman  who,  in  the  pursuit 
of  a  criminal,  was  shot  through  the  abdomen.  It 
was  the  first  gunshot  wound  of  the  abdomen  which 
was  successfully  operated  upon  west  of  the  Missis- 
sippi, and  also  the  first  of  the  series  of  five  which 
were  described  in  the  paper  my  brother  read  at  the 
Congress  of  Surgeons  that  met  in  Berlin  in  1890. 
Dr.  W.  W.  Graves  had  at  the  time  just  become  my 
brother's  assistant,  and  of  his  own  volition  remained 
in  the  O'Sullivan  house  to  watch  and  help  nurse  the 
case  until  the  danger  point  was  passed.  He  was 
very  much  impressed  by  the  remarkable  control  the 
Doctor  exercised  over  this  patient,  as  well  as  over 
many  subsequent  ones  they  saw  together.  "  Your 
brother  spoke  little,  but  that  little  was  brought  out 
with  such  earnestness  and  emphasis  that  it  banished 
doubt  from  the  mind  of  the  sufferer,"  Dr.  Graves 
told  me.  "  Somehow  he  also  suggested  that  the 
patient  had  to  do  his  part."  In  the  O'Sullivan  case, 
after  finishing  the  work  that  night,  he  merely  said, 
looking  the  patient  in  the  eyes,  "  O'Sullivan,  damn 
you,  you  lie  still  or  you'll  die."  The  rough  speech, 
kindly  for  all  that,  as  was  indicated  by  the  tone  of 

122 


Early  Success  —  Curious  Cases 

the  voice  and  the  expression  of  the  face,  had  such 
an  effect  on  the  wounded  man  that  he  hardly  moved 
a  muscle  for  several  days;  nor  asked  for  a  mouthful 
of  food,  which  was,  of  course,  forbidden.  Nutrient 
enemata  were  administered,  which  Dr.  Graves  sam- 
pled for  temperature,  while  the  patient  watched  with 
a  wistful  look  on  his  face,  breaking  out  once  —  to 
Dr.  Graves'  infinite  amusement  —  with  the  plaintive 
question,  "  Doctor,  does  it  taste  good  ?  " 

The  Municipal  Assembly,  in  a  burst  of  genuine 
admiration,  went  out  of  its  way  to  pass  a  special 
ordinance  to  pay  my  brother  for  his  services  in  sav- 
ing the  life  of  an  officer  of  the  city.  For  the  sake 
of  curiosity  I  here  reprint  the  ordinance: 

(15,009.) 

An  Ordinance  to  Pay  Doctor  A.  C.  Bernays  for  Medical 
Attendance  on  a  Member  of  the  Police  Force. 

Be  it  ordained  by  the  Municipal  Assembly  of  the  City  of 
St.  Louis  as  follows : 

Section  1.  The  sum  of  five  hundred  dollars  is  hereby 
appropriated  from  the  fund  to  pay  Doctor  A.  C.  Bernays  for 
medical  attendance  on  Murty  O'Sullivan,  a  member  of  the 
police  force,  from  June  to  September,  1888,  who  was  injured 
in  discharge  of  police  duty  on  June  26,  1888,  and  the  auditor 
is  directed  to  draw  his  warrant  on  the  treasurer  for  the  above 
amount  and  deliver  the  same  to  Doctor  A.  C.  Bernays,  taking 
his  receipt  in  full. 

Section  2.    There  is  hereby  appropriated  and  set  apart  out 

123 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

of  the  Municipal  revenue,  to  pay  Doctor  A.  C.  Bernays,  the 
sum  of  five  hundred  dollars. 
Approved  March  30,  1889. 

Murty  O'Sullivan  became  a  life-long  friend  and 
protege  of  the  Doctor.  His  dear  old  Irish  face  and 
accent  appeared  at  our  house  ever  after  when  he 
thought  he  could  be  of  use,  or  felt  that  his  sympathy 
was  due,  as  well  as  whenever  one  of  the  young 
O'Sullivans  needed  advice  or  encouragement,  or  the 
influence  of  a  kind  friend  to  obtain  him  or  her  a 
position.  Murty,  his  usefulness  in  the  police  force 
over,  subsequently  sought  and  obtained  a  comfort- 
able place  as  warden  in  O'Fallon  Park,  where  he 
long  remained  a  characteristic  figure,  whom  some 
of  the  frequenters  of  the  park  may  remember. 

Many  striking  cases  of  my  brother's  —  dramatic 
from  the  point  of  view  of  the  outsider  —  never  got 
into  medical  literature.  My  brother  early  became 
overwhelmed  with  the  press  of  operative  work,  to 
which  was  added  his  teaching.  As  will  appear  later, 
he  selected  the  most  strenuous  manner  of  relaxing, 
and  was  temperamentally  so  organized  that  he  did 
not  insist  on  the  working  out  of  his  records  by  his 
assistants  or  secretaries.  Only  a  part  of  his  notable 
work,  therefore,  came  to  the  notice  of  the  profession 
at  large,  though  some  of  it  was,  of  course,  circulated 
by  word  of  mouth  or  private  correspondence,  and 

124 


Early  Success — Curious  Cases 

in  that  manner  added  to  his  immediate  reputation. 
Occasionally  a  reporter  snapped  up  something  out 
of  the  common  of  what  he  was  doing,  as,  for  ex- 
ample, I  have  before  me  a  report  from  the  Globe- 
Democrat  of  a  delicate  and  dangerous  operation  he 
did  for  the  recovery  of  a  set  of  false  teeth  swallowed 
by  a  fireman  in  his  sleep.  Judging  from  the  details 
and  the  mention  of  the  name  of  Dr.  W.  F.  Thorn- 
ton, the  first  regular  assistant  my  brother  had,  and 
from  the  fact  that  Thornton  went  to  Nicaragua  in 
1883,  ft  must  have  been  early  in  that  year  that  the 
affair  happened.  It  will  be  observed  that  the  opera- 
tion was  done  in  a  private  house,  that  there  was,  of 
course,  no  x-ray  apparatus  to  locate  exactly  the 
swallowed  object,  that  the  patient  had  gone  from 
doctor  to  doctor,  none  of  whom  improved  matters, 
before  Dr.  Bernays,  several  days  after  the  accident, 
was  called  in.  The  following  is  the  account  of  the 
Globe-Democrat  1 

Teeth  in  the  Throat — Performance  of  a  Delicate  Opera- 
tion to  Recover  a  Set  of  False  Teeth. 

A  party  of  doctors  stood  over  the  prostrate  figure  of  a 
man  in  an  upper  room  of  the  house  No.  1120  Biddle  street 
yesterday  morning,  watching  earnestly  the  efforts  of  a  short, 
wiry,  black-eyed  colleague  to  extract  with  a  pair  of  forceps 
a  set  of  artificial  teeth  that  was  located  in  the  man's  esopha- 
gus. The  effort  was  fruitless,  and,  after  a  short  consultation, 
it  was  agreed  that  an  operation  should  be  performed.     The 

125 


Augustus  Charles  Bemays 

teeth  had  been  previously  located  by  the  introduction  of  a 
sound  through  the  mouth.  They  were  found  to  be  situated 
in  the  esophagus,  an  inch  above  the  articulation  of  the  clavicle 
with  the  sternum.  The  most  intense  interest  was  then  mani- 
fested in  the  operation.  The  chief  figure,  the  short,  black- 
eyed  man  alluded  to,  rolled  up  his  shirtsleeves  and  cast  his 
eye  over  a  glittering  array  of  instruments,  the  patient  in  the 
meantime  being  placed  under  the  influence  of  chloroform. 

The  patient  was  Joseph  McGowan,  a  fireman  by  occupation, 
and  about  35  years  of  age.  On  the  night  of  April  3d,  as  the 
clock  in  a  church  tower  close  by  struck  the  hour  of  midnight, 
McGowan  awoke  to  the  realization  that  he  had  swallowed  a 
small  jagged  rubber  plate  which  held  together  four  upper 
teeth.  Alarmed  for  his  life,  he  immediately  sought  the  serv- 
ices of  a  well-known  surgeon,  who,  after  learning  of  his 
trouble,  sent  him  to  a  more  distinguished  brother.  The  latter 
doctor  treated  him  until  Thursday  morning,  confining  the 
exercise  of  his  professional  skill,  however,  to  the  work  of 
pushing  the  teeth  down  the  throat,  with  the  purpose  of  having 
them  pass  into  the  stomach.  The  teeth  refused  to  entirely 
go  down,  and,  wild  with  pain  and  weak  with  a  fortnight's 
absolute  fasting,  McGowan  sought  Dr.  Bernays.  It  was  Ber- 
nays,  with  a  corps  of  assistants,  who  surrounded  McGowan 
when  a  Globe-Democrat  representative  was  ushered  into  the 
house  yesterday  morning. 

Selecting  the  proper  instrument,  Dr.  Bernays,  at  exactly 
10:05,  made  an  incision  three  inches  in  length  along  the  an- 
terior border  of  the  sternocleidomastoid  muscle  in  the  left 
side,  or,  in  other  words,  he  cut  a  three-inch  gash  at  the  bottom 
of  the  neck,  just  above  the  breastbone,  and  along  the  line  of 
the  collarbone.  Then,  picking  up  a  blunt,  pointed  dissector, 
the  doctor  inserted  it  in  the  wound  and  pushed  important 
blood  vessels  aside  to  the  left  and  the  trachea  and  thyroid 
gland  to  the  right.  The  esophagus  then  being  exposed,  the 
doctor   inserted  his   finger   and   announced   that   he   distinctly 

126 


Early  Success  —  Curious  Cases 

felt  the  plate  and  the  teeth.  He  opened  the  esophagus  very 
slightly,  introduced  a  blunt,  pointed  knife  and  enlarged  the 
opening  sufficiently  to  extract  the  teeth.  As  the  plate  came 
to  light  the  greatest  enthusiasm  was  manifested  by  the  spec- 
tators, each  of  whom  examined  the  ugly  body  which  had  so 
nearly  cost  the  man  his  life.  Dipping  a  sponge  in  a  basin  of 
water,  the  little  doctor  began  the  work  of  cleansing  the  wound 
and  sewing  together  the  skin  that  had  been  separated  by  the 
knife.  Before  closing  the  wound  a  rubber  tube  was  placed  in 
it  for  drainage  purposes.  Dr.  Bernays  then  smartly  rapped 
the  patient  on  the  cheek  once  or  twice,  and  aroused  him  from 
the  stupefaction  in  which  the  chloroform  had  placed  him.  A 
gleam  of  intelligence  shot  across  the  dull  eyes  of  the  patient 
as  the  doctor  held  the  teeth  before  them,  and  the  mouth 
broke  into  a  grim  smile.  "He's  all  right  now;  put  him  to 
bed,"  said  he.  The  patient  had  been  lying  on  a  table,  and, 
indeed,  he  seemed  to  be  all  right,  for  he  walked  a  few  steps 
alone.  Before  being  placed  in  bed  he  was  given  a  glass  of 
milk,  a  part  of  which  he  swallowed.  Some  of  the  milk  es- 
caped through  the  severed  esophagus  and  dripped  through 
the  rubber  drainage  tube. 

It  was  a  very  daring  operation,  and  one  of  the  doctors 
present  said  that  few  men  could  have  done  it.  The  difficulty 
lay  in  the  fact  that  all  the  important  arteries  and  blood  ves- 
sels are  in  the  throat.  The  operation  has  never  before  been 
performed  in  this  city,  and  but  seldom  in  the  United  States. 
It  will,  therefore,  be  read  with  interest  by  all  interested  in 
surgery.  It  was  concluded  at  10 :  30,  the  time  occupied  having 
been  exactly  twenty-five  minutes.  The  quantity  of  blood  lost 
was  less  than  two  ounces. 

It  is  significant  of  the  advance  made  in  science  to 
contrast  with  the  above  a  letter  my  brother  wrote, 
twenty  years  afterward,  to  his  friend,  Dr.  G.  G. 

127 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

Cottam,  about  a  case  of  foreign  body  in  the  throat. 
Hasty  and  scrappy  as  the  letter  is  —  as  nearly  all  my 
brother's  letters  were  —  it  gives  in  the  fewest  words 
a  history  of  the  case,  his  connection  with  it,  the  de- 
scription of  the  operation,  and  the  result.  Besides 
that,  there  is  in  it  an  exhibition  of  my  brother's 
bonhomie,  his  gay  comradeship  with  a  former  pupil, 
his  delight  in  the  good  work  of  others,  his  readiness 
to  do  whatever  he  could  for  his  friends  —  in  fact, 
it  is  like  a  lucky  snapshot  of  the  Doctor's  personality 
in  one  of  his  most  endearing  moods.  I  give  it, 
therefore,  in  toto: 

St.  Louis,  February  28,  1903. 
My  Dear  Cottam: 

If  I  go  to  New  Orleans,  which  I  am  almost  sure  to  do,  I 
shall  be  very  glad  indeed  to  have  you  for  a  traveling  compan- 
ion—  without  the  toothache,  if  you  please,  but  any  old  way, 
if  it  must  be. 

I  spent  four  days  with  the  Mayos  just  before  New  Year, 
and  was  much  pleased  and  instructed  by  what  I  saw  while 
there.  They  certainly  have  fine  material  to  work  on,  and  do 
full  justice  to  their  opportunities.  Charley  and  I  went  from 
there  to  St.  Joe  together.     We  had  a  good  time  every  minute. 

Day  before  yesterday  I  had  one  of  the  finest  surgical  cases 
I  ever  saw  to  operate  on  —  a  large  brass-headed  upholsterer's 
tack  just  below  the  bifurcation  of  the  trachea.  It  lay  in  an 
abscess  cavity,  containing  about  two  ounces  of  stinking  pus. 
Tack  had  been  swallowed  six  months  ago ;  boy  treated  for 
pneumonia,  tapped  for  pleuritic  effusion,  etc.  Finally  the 
mother  remembered  that  the  boy  had  said  he  swallowed  a 
tack  several  weeks  before  the  pneumonia  began.    X-rays  lo- 

128 


Early  Success  —  Curious  Cases 

cated  the  tack  beautifully.  Median  incision  down  to  trachea, 
then  by  careful  blunt  work  with  fingers  followed  trachea 
down  to  near  the  bifurcation,  then  long  incision  of  trachea, 
cutting  eight  or  nine  rings  in  anterior  median  line,  then 
caught  tack  by  point.  On  pulling  it  out  a  large  abscess  rup- 
tured, nearly  drowned  the  boy;  but  let  all  the  pus,  etc.,  run 
out  (head  down).  Boy  is  now  O.  K.  Had  intended  to  saw 
sternum  down  median  line  and  spread  apart,  if  necessary,  but 
nimble  fingers  worked  successfully.     Boy  is  normal  and  will 

recover'  Yours  always, 

A.  C.  Bernays. 
I  have  occasion  to  mention  your  name,  and  always  take 
pleasure  in  doing  so  in  places  where  it  will  do  you  good.    My 
regards  to  Knott  when  you  see  him.     I  like  him. 

G.,  a  Philadelphia  insurance  detective,  told  me  a  good  one 
on  you.    He  is  your  friend. 

A.  C.  B. 

In  these  days,  when  many  surgeons  restrict  them- 
selves irrevocably  to  only  a  small  part  of  the  anat- 
omy, the  range  and  experience  Dr.  Bernays  acquired 
even  in  his  youth  over  the  entire  physique  seems 
wonderful.  He  was  convinced  that  anything  an- 
other could  do  in  surgery  did  not  lie  beyond  his 
power.  During  the  brief  twenty-nine  years  of  his 
activity  his  alert  eye  overlooked  nothing  in  the  lit- 
erature of  surgery.  Whatever  others  claimed  was 
feasible  he  studied,  tried,  improved  upon  it  if  he 
could  —  adopted  it  if  successful,  or  dropped  it  if 
results,  in  his  opinion,  failed  to  justify  the  risks 
taken. 

129 


CHAPTER  IX 

SIGNIFICANT  YEARS 

Go  on  and  work  with  all  your  will  —  uproot  error. —  Car- 
lyle. 

About  1887  my  brother's  work  seems  to  have  in- 
creased tremendously.  There  are  ten  important 
papers  in  the  list  compiled  by  Dr.  Cottam  dated 
1887,  ranging  over  a  wide  field  of  operative  sur- 
gery. Three  cases  of  total  excision  of  the  tongue 
are  treated  in  one,  four  craniotomies  in  another, 
then  a  case  of  pylorectomy  with  rare  complications, 
a  new  surgical  operation  for  the  treatment  of  cancer 
of  the  stomach,  a  new  operative  procedure  intended 
to  supplant  herniotomy,  a  case  of  complete  trans- 
verse section  of  the  Achilles  tendon  by  the  sharp 
edge  of  a  spade,  etc.  Many  of  them  involved  origi- 
nal work  devised  by  Dr.  Bernays,  and  the  conclu- 
sions reached  and  the  general  deductions  drawn 
were  always  important  and  interesting  —  sometimes 
epoch-making.  A  number  of  these  articles  are  pro- 
fusely illustrated.     Early  in  1888  he  contributed  the 

130 


Significant  Years 

article  entitled,  "  The  Origin  of  the  Foramen 
Caecum  Linguae,  as  Shown  by  an  Operation  on  a 
Rare  Tumor  of  the  Root  of  the  Tongue  —  A  Pre- 
liminary Note,"  to  the  St.  Louis  Medical  and  Surgi- 
cal Journal.  He  speaks  of  this  paper  in  the  chapter 
on  "  Scientific  Contributions  "  in  his  "  Golden  Rules 
of  Surgery,"  saying  that  "  an  American  surgeon 
must  be  credited  with  the  neat  little  scientific  dis- 
covery for  which  embryological  studies  made  at 
Heidelberg  laid  the  foundation."  It  seems  that  this 
tumor  had  never  before  been  described,  and  only 
about  twenty  of  the  kind  have  since  been  found  and 
reported.  It  is  a  goiter  situated  entirely  within  the 
tongue,  "  extending  from  the  pyramidal  process  of 
the  thyroid  gland  to  the  foramen  caecum  on  the  back 
of  the  tongue."  "  I  plainly  expressed  my  opinion," 
says  my  brother,  "that  this  tumor  was  developed 
from  epithelial  cells  which  were  left  in  the  track  of 
the  thyroid  gland,  as  it  developed  from  the  primitive 
epithelium  or  head  gut,"  and  added  that  Dr.  J.  Bland 
Sutton,  of  the  Chelsea  Hospital,  quoted  this  paper 
in  his  work  on  "  Tumors,"  published  some  six  years 
afterward  (in  1893,  I  think). 

At  the  suggestion  of  Dr.  W.  Bartlett,  who  told 
me  that  Dr.  J.  Bland  Sutton  had  spoken  apprecia- 
tively of  my  brother,  I  called  on  the  English  surgeon 
while  in  London  in  the  summer  of  1910,  and  had  a 

131 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

rather  strange  interview  with  him.  To  my  medi- 
cally ill-prepared  mind  the  passage  from  which  I 
have  just  quoted  from  my  brother's  book  was  not 
present,  nor  had  I  the  faintest  idea  that  it  would 
be  a  question  of  priority  on  which  I  should  be  inter- 
viewing the  English  surgeon.  I  had  a  note-book 
and  pencil  with  me,  however,  and  took  down  his 
statement  as  follows : 

About  1886  I  conceived  the  idea  of  writing  a  book  on  tu- 
mors on  a  morphological  basis.  I  had  been  writing  papers  on 
morphological  pathology  when  I  received  through  a  friend  a 
number  of  the  St.  Louis  Medical  Journal,  volume  55,  con- 
taining a  paper  by  Dr.  A.  C.  Bernays  on  a  peculiar  tumor  of 
the  tongue,  in  which  the  author  of  the  article  attempted  to 
associate  the  growth  of  this  tumor  with  the  thyrohyoid  duct 
found  by  Professor  Hies  of  Leipzig.  It  was  a  very  interesting 
paper,  and  in  a  series  of  lectures  which  I  published  I  referred 
several  times  to  that  paper. 

On  a  visit  of  Dr.  Bernays  to  England  some  time  afterward 
he  came  to  see  me.  He  said  he  wanted  to  know  me  because 
it  was  so  rare  to  find  a  young  author  appreciating  the  work 
of  a  contemporary.  He  told  me  that  at  Heidelberg  he  had 
studied  with  Gegenbaur,  and  had  asked  Gegenbaur  to  sug- 
gest lines  of  work  to  him.  Gegenbaur  advised  him  to  take 
up  tumors,  adding  that  the  classification  of  tumors  would 
never  be  put  on  a  sound  basis  until  they  had  been  viewed 
from  a  morphological  and  embryological  standpoint.  When 
he  went  back  to  St.  Louis  after  completing  his  studies  at 
Heidelberg  he  intended  to  carry  on  work  on  these  lines.  His 
first  effort  was  this  paper  on  tumors  of  the  thyroglossal  duct. 
To  his  astonishment  he  received  nearly  at  the  same  time  my 

132 


Significant  Years 

volume  in  which  tumors  were  first  treated  on  a  morphological 
basis. 

We  spent  several  afternoons  together  at  the  London  hos- 
pitals, and  thereafter  followed  each  other's  work.  Dr.  Ber- 
nays'  work  astonished  me,  because  American  surgeons  at  that 
time  were  busy  operating  only  —  doing  practical  work  ex- 
clusively, as  indeed  they  admitted.  To  receive  out  of  the  Far 
West  a  contribution  to  a  scientific  treatment  of  the  very  sub- 
ject I  was  myself  studying  in  this  way  came,  therefore,  as  a 
great  surprise. 

Late  in  March,  1888,  my  brother  again  embarked 
for  Germany.  He  went  this  time  to  attend  the 
German  Surgical  Congress,  as  well  as  to  visit  the 
hospitals  of  some  of  the  North  German  cities. 
Two  letters  published  in  the  St.  Louis  Medical  and 
Surgical  Journal,  one  dated  April  8,  1888,  and  the 
other  May  5  of  the  same  year,  give  an  account  of 
the  sessions  of  the  Congress,  and  discourse  on  other 
scientific  matters  in  his  own  lively  and  racy  fashion. 
His  style,  however,  at  that  time  was  not  perfectly 
formed,  and  not  as  forceful  as  it  later  became  when 
the  influence  of  the  German  had  been  entirely  shed, 
and  he  wrote,  as  he  operated,  with  a  sort  of  light- 
ning effect.  I  reprint  the  letters  as  documents  in- 
dicative of  the  Doctor's  convictions  on  a  variety  of 
subjects  at  the  time.  His  opposition  to  ether,  so 
vigorously  expressed  in  the  second  letter,  was  of 
course  later  abandoned. 

133 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

Letter  from  Berlin  —  The  German   Surgical  Congress. 

Hotel  du  Nord,  Unter  den  Linden. 
Berlin,  April  8,  1888. 

Editors  St.  Louis  Medical  and  Surgical  Journal: 

The  steamer  Eider  made  a  fast  trip  from  New  York  to 
Bremen  —  about  nine  days  from  port  to  port.  We  landed 
early  Tuesday  morning,  and  I  took  the  first  train  to  Berlin. 
I  arrived  just  in  time  to  change  from  my  traveling  suit  into 
full  dress,  and  drive  post-haste  to  the  Philharmonic  where 
the  Langenbeck  memorial  was  celebrated.  This  memorial 
celebration  was  held  under  the  auspices  of  the  "  German  So- 
ciety for  Surgery,"  whose  founder  and  permanent  president 
Langenbeck  had  been.  The  society  was  founded  soon  after 
the  establishment  of  the  German  empire  in  1871.  Its  object 
was  to  assemble  the  surgeons  of  Germany  annually  in  the 
city  of  Berlin  during  Easter  week  in  a  congress  for  the  oral 
exchange  and  communication  of  their  experiences  in  prac- 
tical surgery,  and  also  to  test  the  results  and  advances  made 
in  scientific  and  experimental  surgical  pathology,  and  to  dis- 
prove or  establish  their  validity  by  discussions. 

After  the  deplored  death  of  their  president  in  September 
last  the  society  determined  to  hold  a  "  memorial  "  in  honor 
of  the  deceased,  and  it  was  arranged  to  take  place  on  the 
evening  before  the  opening  of  the  Congress.  It  was  at  first 
intended  to  be  a  banquet,  but  the  death  of  Kaiser  Wilhelm 
has  put  all  public  dinners  out  of  question.  The  character  of 
the  memorial  was  entirely  changed,  and  I  believe  that  the 
change  was  decidedly  a  good  one  in  the  interest  of  the  affair 
to  be   celebrated. 

The  largest  hall  in  Berlin  available  for  the  purpose,  the 
Philharmonie,  was  chosen.  The  imposing  hall  had  changed 
its  usual  aspect.  The  stage  was  draped  in  black,  with  a  beau- 
tiful forest  of  laurel  and  palm  trees  and  other  high-stemmed 
tropical  leaf-plants  in  the  background.     In  the  middle  of  the 

134 


Significant  Years 

stage  stood  the  new  and  masterly  bust  of  the  honored  sur- 
geon. I  recognized  the  amiable  features  of  my  master  and 
teacher  at  the  first  glance.  The  whole  scene  was  one  of  over- 
awing grandeur  and  solemnity.  On  the  stage  stood  the  mem- 
bers of  the  executive  committee  of  the  German  Surgical  So- 
ciety —  Esmarch,  Konig,  Thiersch,  Bergmann,  Trendelenburg, 
Schonborn,  Kiister,  and  some  others.  The  large  hall  was 
filled,  many  having  to  stand.  Every  reputable  physician  in 
Berlin  was  present.  The  army  was  represented  by  its  highest 
officers.  Every  one  of  the  Imperial  Cabinet  ministers  was 
present,  and  the  medical  corps  of  the  army  was  numerously 
represented  to  do  honor  to  its  former  teacher  and  surgeon- 
general.  The  Grand  Duke  of  Baden  and  the  Grand  Duchess, 
brother-in-law  and  sister  of  the  present  emperor,  occupied  a 
private  box.  The  surviving  members  of  Langenbeck's  family 
were  also  present.  The  most  prominent  Berlin  daily  makes  the 
following  comment : 

"  A  more  brilliant  assembly  than  this  one  was  never  before 
seen  within  the  large  hall  of  the  Philharmonic  The  highest 
representatives  of  science  and  of  art,  the  most  honored  names 
in  the  army,  as  well  as  the  highest  officers  of  state,  sat  to- 
gether in  an  earnest,  impressive  memorial  gathering  with  the 
pupils  and  friends  of  the  immortal  master  in  the  guidance  of 
the  disease-curing  steel." 

The  exercises  began  with  the  singing  of  Mendelssohn's 
Mourning  Song  by  the  chorus  of  the  Royal  High  School, 
after  which  von  Bergmann,  the  successor  to  von  Langen- 
beck's chair  of  surgery  in  the  university,  stepped  upon  the 
rostrum  and  in  elegant  and  poetic  language  delivered  the  me- 
morial oration.  He  wore  the  full  uniform  of  a  surgeon- 
general,  with  all  his  decorations,  a  beautiful  sight,  though  to 
an  American  it  seems  novel  and  unrepublican.  The  speech 
made  a  deep  impression  on  the  audience.  It  was  a  detailed 
biographical  sketch,  replete  with  interesting  observation  on 
the   progress    of    surgery    during   the    past    fifty    years.     The 

135 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

ceremonies  were  closed  by  another  short  chorus  by  Haydn. 
The  whole  ceremony  lasted  only  one  hour  and  forty  minutes. 

After  the  ceremony  there  was  a  gathering  for  lunch  in 
the  dining-room  of  the  Hotel  du  Nord.  Old  acquaintance  was 
here  renewed,  new  friendships  begun.  There  were  about  two 
hundred  members  present.  The  Executive  Board  had  a  short 
meeting.  I  presented  some  of  my  cards  of  introduction,  and 
soon  became  thoroughly  acquainted.  The  Germans  have 
the  very  pleasant  custom,  when  a  foreign  guest  or  member  of 
the  society  is  pointed  out,  of  stepping  up  and  introducing  them- 
selves with  a  bow,  giving  their  names  and  mentioning  their 
official  positions.  This  custom  is  freely  indulged  in  by  the 
younger  surgeons,  and  even  the  professors  while  at  the  Con- 
gress lay  aside  the  reserve  which  so  frequently  isolates  or  at 
least  excludes  them  from  companionship  with  the  younger 
element  at  home.  As  you  will  see  by  the  inclosed  programs 
for  the  sessions  of  the  day,  each  one  is  simply  called  "  Herr." 
Titles  count  for  nothing,  and  neither  does  position ;  even- 
man  is  equal  on  the  debating  floor,  and  stands  or  falls  by 
what  he  says. 

The  mornings  are  devoted  to  demonstrations  of  cases, 
specimens  and  drawings,  instruments,  etc.  These  communi- 
cations must  be  strictly  oral.  I  have  frequently  seen  the 
president  call  to  order  a  member  who  attempted  to  read  a 
long  paper  at  the  morning  session.  Any  person  who  in  the 
least  wanders  from  the  subject  is  immediately  reproved  by  the 
chairman,  and,  if  a  speaker  attempts  to  "ride  a  hobby" — to 
present  a  matter  on  which  he  has  spoken  or  written  before  — 
the  members  are  not  slow  to  show  signs  of  disapproval. 
Every  minute  of  time  is  valuable  to  the  Congress,  and  only 
new  things  are  permissible  as  subjects  for  report  or  discus- 
sion. During  a  discussion  following  a  demonstration  of  the 
condition  of  the  bodies  of  old  men  who  had  hypertrophy  of 
the  prostate,  the  question  as  to  the  best  methods  of  catheterism 
in  these  cases  arising,  some  members  gave  their  views,  when 

136 


Significant  Years 

Professor  Socin,  of  Basel,  informed  them  that  such  stuff  was 
not  wanted  —  that  only  facts  relating  to  the  question  were 
of  interest,  and  the  recital  of  opinions  valueless  and  out  of 
order.  Von  Bergmann  makes  an  excellent  presiding  officer. 
He  has  succeeded  in  controlling  the  program  and  the  dis- 
cussions in  such  a  manner  that  volume  XVII  of  the  trans- 
actions will  be  the  most  valuable  published  up  to  date.  I  will 
give  you  a  report  of  what  I  conceive  to  be  the  most  interest- 
ing papers  brought  to  the  Congress.  The  morning  sessions 
are  held  in  the  Royal  Surgical  Clinic,  in  von  Bergmann's 
operating  room.  Four  hundred  and  fifty  seats  are  reserved 
for  the  members,  and  the  space  above  is  always  crowded  by 
guests,  so  that  standing  room  only  is  the  order  of  the  day. 

There  are  surgeons  here  from  different  parts  of  the  world 
—  from  Japan,  China,  Australia,  India,  Russia,  Italy,  and 
Spain.  For  the  first  time  since  1870  invitations  have  passed 
between  the  French  and  German  Congresses,  a  fact  which  I 
am  glad  to  chronicle.  From  the  United  States  I  am  the  only 
member  present.  Mr.  Roswell  Park,  of  Buffalo,  was  admitted 
to  membership  this  session.  Dr.  George  J.  Engelmann  has 
attended  a  few  of  our  sessions  as  a  guest.  A  number  of 
young  American  students  also  attended  regularly. 

A  new  rule  was  adopted  making  a  membership  hereafter 
more  difficult  to  obtain.  The  Congress  has  100,000  marks, 
and  it  is  the  intention  to  erect  a  building  to  be  known  as  the 
"  Langenbeck  Haus."  It  will  cost  550,000  marks,  and  will  be 
in  the  center  of  the  city,  near  the  Surgical  Clinic.  It  will  be 
used  throughout  the  year  by  the  Berlin  Medical  Society,  and 
by  our  society  during  Easter  week  at  our  annual  session.  It 
will  contain  our  library,  reading-room,  and  laboratories,  and 
will  have  a  museum,  open  to  members  the  year  round. 

An  invitation  from  the  American  Surgical  Society  was  read. 
I  advised  all  who  could  to  go  over  and  attend,  stating  that 
there  would  be  a  higher  grade  of  American  surgeons  (scien- 
tifically)   present   than   were   seen   at   the   International.     Es- 

137 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

march  told  me  that  he  would  be  over  with  his  son,  and  was 
endeavoring  to  have  others  join  his  party. 

They  have  very  little  respect  for  the  A.  M.  A.  here.  But 
I  must  close,  as  I  am  expected  to  dine  with  von  Bergmann 
in  half  an  hour.  K  Q   Bernays. 

Chloroform  Versus  Ether  in  Europe  —  Death  from  the 
Latter  in  Hamburg. 

Hamburg,  Hohenfelde,  May  5,  1888. 

Editors  St.  Louis  Medical  and  Surgical  Journal: 

I  have  seen  a  great  deal  of  surgery,  and  am  now  waiting 
at  this  hospital  (the  Marien  Krankenhaus)  for  the  surgeon, 
Herr  Kummel,  who  is  to  perform  laparotomy  for  ileus  on  a 
young  Spanish  sailor.  His  method  is  to  open  the  abdomen 
from  sternum  to  pubis,  take  out  all  the  intestines,  and  repair 
the  damage  as  best  he  can. 

Kummel  is  not  the  great  surgeon  here,  but  is  nevertheless 
a  man  of  considerable  and  deserved  reputation.  The  great- 
est man  here  is  Schede,  and  I  have  spent  most  of  my  time 
in  his  hospital.  Dr.  Sands,  of  New  York,  spent  a  month  with 
Schede,  and,  being  a  partisan  of  ether  as  against  chloroform, 
undertook  to  convert  Schede  by  showing  him  how  to  use  the 
former  anesthetic. 

The  case  was  that  of  a  woman  of  about  38,  afflicted  with 
uterine  cancer.  Sands,  who,  as  you  know,  is  recognized  as 
one  of  our  best  surgeons,  sent  to  London  for  an  ether  bag 
and  all  the  apparatus  necessary  for  the  administration  of  the 
anesthetic,  and  also  secured  the  purest  and  best  ether.  He 
and  his  son,  Dr.  Sands,  Jr.,  began  the  administration  in  the 
presence  of  Schede  and  eight  other  prominent  surgeons.  In 
less  than  four  minutes  the  patient  was  dead,  so  very  dead 
that  all  means  of  revivification  —  artificial  respiration,  even 
tracheotomy  and  forced  air  —  were  of  no  avail.  The  post- 
mortem  showed  normal   heart,   lungs,   and   brain  —  in   short, 

138 


Significant  Years 

nothing  abnormal  or  pathological  but  the  cancer  of  the  uterus. 
The  French  and  Germans,  as  is  known,  have  never  taken 
kindly  to  ether,  using  it  but  very  little.  If  this  incident  will 
keep  them  from  using  it  at  all  in  the  future,  they  are  to  be 
congratulated.  I  can  not  understand  how  anybody  who  has 
ever  used  chloroform  can  become  a  convert  to  ether.  It 
takes  a  good  deal  of  prejudice  to  make  even  those  who  have 
been  its  advocates  stick  to  it,  and  I  am  glad  to  say  that  all 
my  experience  and  observation  on  this  trip  tend  to  show 
that  it  is  gradually  going  out  of  use  abroad.  Chloroform  is 
now  administered  throughout  the  world  five  times  where 
ether  is  resorted  to  once.  There  have  consequently  been  a 
few  more  deaths  in  the  gross  credited  to  chloroform  within 
the  past  year  over  those  attributable  to  ether,  but,  when  the 
number  of  times  each  was  used  is  taken  into  consideration, 
ether  has  been  the  more  fatal.  I  think  chloroform  is  danger- 
ous only  when  there  is  grave  organic  disease  of  the  heart,  or 
in  persons  addicted  to  the  use  of  whisky. 

A.  C.  Bernays. 

A  letter  was  also  published,  during  this  visit  of 
my  brother  abroad,  giving  an  account  of  his  call  on 
Dr.  Morrell  Mackenzie,  at  the  Charlottenburger 
Schloss,  Berlin,  where  this  English  surgeon  was 
then  in  charge  of  the  dying  Emperor  Frederick  of 
Germany.  I  can  not  recall  in  which  publication  the 
article  appeared  and  have  no  scrap-book  clipping  of 
it.  As  I  remember  the  circumstances,  my  brother 
had  a  letter  of  introduction  to  Dr.  Mackenzie.  On 
sending  this,  together  with  his  card,  to  the  English- 
man, he  received  an  invitation  and  a  pass  to  enter 
the  castle,   from  which  closely  guarded  abode  the 

139 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

usual  visitors  were  at  the  time  excluded.  It  will  be 
remembered  that  a  bitter  feud  was  on  between  the 
English  throat  specialist  and  his  German  colleagues. 
The  criticism  of  the  latter  had  been  at  first  respectful 
and  guarded,  although  they  made  no  secret  of  their 
dissent  from  his  diagnosis  and  disapproval  of  his 
treatment.  When  it  was  perceived  that  there  was 
method  in  his  madness  in  denying  that  cancer 
affected  his  royal  patient,  and  that  a  designing  femi- 
nine mind  from  personal  and  political  motives 
inspired  the  pernicious  expectant  treatment,  their 
indignant  strictures  grew  vociferous.  Much  space 
was  given  in  the  dispatches  and  articles  of  the  press 
throughout  the  world  to  this  extraordinary  doctors' 
dispute,  so  that  the  call  my  brother  made  on  the 
emperor's  English  surgeon  aroused  considerable 
interest.  He  saw  the  royal  patient  lying  asleep  in 
the  room  adjoining  the  one  in  which  Dr.  Mackenzie 
received  him,  and  the  Empresses  Frederick  and  Vic- 
toria (the  latter  on  a  visit  to  her  stricken  son-in-law 
and  daughter)  pacing  up  and  down  a  gallery  or  bal- 
cony of  the  castle  in  earnest  conversation.  He 
always  maintained  that  two  women  of  less  naturally 
imperious  and  imperial  aspect  than  these  exalted 
ladies  could  not  have  been  selected  among  the  daugh- 
ters of  Eve  in  all  the  wide  world.  When  he  left  the 
castle  after  his  visit  he  found  a  mob  on  the  outside, 

140 


Significant  Years 

who  held  him  up  bodily,  questioning  him  excitedly 
on  what  he  had  observed  within.  A  policeman  had 
to  extricate  him  from  this  demonstration,  which 
amounted  almost  to  an  assault. 

The  first  third  of  my  brother's  independent  activ- 
ity had  now  elapsed,  and  in  spite  of,  or  rather  be- 
cause of,  the  many  enemies  he  had  managed  to 
make,  his  reputation  was  established.  He  was  in 
the  saddle.  With  a  gaiete  de  cceur  that  was  refresh- 
ing to  watch,  he  went  on  his  own  triumphant  way. 
When  "  friends  "  reported  to  him  what  Tom,  Dick, 
and  Harry  were  saying  against  him,  he  did  not  for 
the  most  part  even  take  it  seriously,  but  laughed, 
or  made  same  curt,  pungent  remark  that,  if  it  went 
back  to  the  prime  offender,  was  sure  to  rankle  — 
at  least  give  him  a  bad  quarter  of  an  hour.  He 
.always  insisted  that  his  enemies  had  helped  him 
much  more  than  his  friends.  With  Gladstone,  he 
held  that  "  censure  and  criticism  never  hurt  anybody 
—  if  false,  they  can  not  hurt  you  unless  you  are  want- 
ing in  character,  and,  if  true,  they  show  a  man  his 
weak  points  and  warn  him  against  failure  and 
trouble."  Let  the  weak  whine  about  traducers  and 
backbiters.  A  chance  flick  and  sting  at  that  ilk  was 
all  a  strong  man  could  find  time  or  thought  for. 
He  experienced  the  exaltation  of  him  who  has  in 
a    supreme    degree    the    power    to    stay    suffering. 

141 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

Already  the  band  of  those  he  had  brought  back  from 
the  brink  of  the  grave  to  jubilant  health  was  assum- 
ing the  proportions  of  a  goodly  legion.  Already  the 
young  men  to  whom  he  began  to  lecture  at  the  old 
College  of  Physicians  and  Surgeons,  in  1883,  felt  the 
dawn  of  the  new  era  of  science,  and  were  learning 
to  assimilate  into  the  texture  of  their  thought  the 
great  truths  of  evolution,  for  Dr.  Bernays  was  one 
of  the  first  expounders  in  the  West  of  this  new  and 
convincing  explanation  of  the  processes  of  nature, 
and  he  lost  no  opportunity  to  enlighten  his  breath- 
lessly listening  audiences. 

In  the  St.  Louis  Medical  and  Surgical  Journal 
of  March,  1888,  can  be  found  this  significant  item: 
"  During  the  past  month  Dr.  A.  C.  Bernays  per- 
formed a  laparotomy  for  the  extirpation  of  both 
ovaries  in  which  he  removed  those  organs  and  had 
the  wound  sutured  in  nine  and  a  half  minutes  from 
the  time  the  first  incision  was  made."  Later  he 
exceeded  that  speed,  and  grimly  smiled  at  those  of 
the  profession  who  "  wore  the  cloak  "  of  dignity, 
and  who  were  obliged  to  hide  their  awkwardness, 
ignorance,  and  bungling  by  making  their  victims 
feel  proud  of  having  been  for  hours  on  the  operating 
table  for  the  same  troubles  it  took  him  minutes  to 
dispose  of.     "  The  reason  I  beat  the  Austrians," 

142 


Significant  Years 

said  Napoleon,  "  is  that  they  did  not  know  the  value 
of  five  minutes." 

Five  years  later,  in  1893,  we  find  a  number  of 
publications,  in  the  medical  as  well  as  the  daily 
press,  proclaiming  the  principles  which  for  fifteen 
years  Dr.  Bernays  had  taught  and  lived.  The  Kan- 
sas City  Medical  Index  for  November,  1893,  openly 
jeered  at  the  hypocrisy  of  some  of  the  St.  Louis 
surgeons  "  who  had  for  years  spoken  harshly  of 
the  brilliant  A.  C.  Bernays  because  some  of  his 
really  remarkable  work  had  been  mentioned  by  the 
public  press."  This  journal  charged  that  at  a  meet- 
ing of  the  Southwestern  Railway  Surgeons,  held 
in  October,  1893,  in  St.  Louis,  a  few  St.  Louis 
surgeons  monopolized  the  time  of  the  visitors  for 
the  purpose  of  advertising  themselves  by  "  clinics  " 
in  which  matter  foreign  to  the  purposes  of  the  meet- 
ing was  illustrated.  "  The  very  men  did  this,"  the 
article  states,  "  who  are  denouncing  Dr.  Bernays 
with  one  breath  and  whispering  advertisements  to 
newspaper  reporters  with  the  next." 

"  At  the  clinics  reporters  were  admitted,"  quot- 
ing further  from  the  same  article,  "  and  column 
after  column  appeared  in  the  daily  press  anent  the 
4  wonderful '  operations  performed  by  these  '  skilled 
surgeons/ "     Another     paragraph     reads :     "  The 

143 


Augustas  Charles  Bernays 

fight  made  against  Dr.  Bernays  has  redounded  to 
his  good.  Today  he  is  better  and  more  favorably 
known  at  home  and  abroad  than  any  of  his  com- 
petitors, and  his  work  is  far  greater  than  that  of 
any  two  surgeons  in  the  city  of  St.  Louis.  The 
reason  of  this  lies  in  the  fact  that  he  has  made  the 
physicians  of  St.  Louis  understand  that  he  will 
attend  cases  only  when  called  by  a  doctor  —  the 
true  position  of  the  man  who  practices  surgery  as 
a  specialty  —  and  also  that  he  is  one  of  the  most 
daring  and  skillful  operators  in  the  world,  which 
even  his  enemies  are  forced  to  admit." 

The  last  decade  of  the  nineteenth  century,  except 
for  the  illness  of  the  spring  and  summer  of  1898, 
marked  the  zenith  of  my  brother's  power.  Some- 
times I  saw  him  coming  from  an  unusually  difficult 
and  successful  operation  preceded  and  followed  by 
a  troop  of  assistants,  pupils,  visiting  medical  men, 
who  hung  on  his  words  and  pressed  about  him, 
eager  to  serve  him,  jealous  of  the  little  favors  or 
preferences  he  carelessly  distributed,  neglectful  of 
merit  perhaps,  acting  on  the  caprice  of  the  moment. 
He  always  looked  radiant,  exultant,  in  the  midst 
of  these  "  heralds,  pursuivants,  and  trumpeters," 
and  loved  their  plaudits  and  their  admiration.  It  is 
true  that  some  of  those  he  tried  to  instruct  and 
inspire  lacked  the  courage  and  the  intellect  to  fol- 

144 


Significant  Years 

low  him  in  his  ideal  conception  of  his  profession. 
A  few  were  mere  sycophants  and  ingrates;  when 
profit  lured  elsewhere,  they  basely  deserted  him  — 
turned  against  him.  But  impulsive,  generous,  slow 
to  suspect,  as  he  was,  not  until  the  shameful  fact 
jumped  into  his  very  eyes  would  he  be  convinced  of 
ingratitude  or  betrayal.  The  great  majority  of 
those  who  knew  him  at  all  well  remained,  however, 
friends  of  his  to  the  end. 


145 


CHAPTER  X 

DR.  BERNAYS'  DARING 

Had  the  great  truths  waited  till-  the  majority  voted  in 
their  favor,  they  would  never  have  been  heard  from. —  Hobbes. 

If  you  are  persecuted  by  jealous  rivals,  cheer  up!  Men 
do  not  combine  against  insignificant  foes  or  train  parks  of 
artillery  against  fleas. —  A.  C.  Bernays. 

The  year  1890  once  more  saw  the  Doctor  on  his 
way  to  Europe.  The  International  Congress  of 
Physicians  and  Surgeons  was  to  meet  in  Berlin,  and 
he  went  this  time  invited  to  read  a  paper,  and  truly 
well-equipped  with  his  "  Gunshot  Wounds  of  the 
Abdomen,"  a  contribution  to  the  surgery  of  the 
time  that  was  destined  to  create  considerable  inter- 
est. He  was  much  congratulated  on  it  in  Berlin. 
The  leading  medical  journals  of  the  world  asked 
for  copies  of  this  paper,  and  it  was  translated  into 
several  languages.  Its  author  took  an  important 
part  in  the  discussion  on  various  topics  before  the 
Congress,  and  was  elected  secretary  of  the  surgi- 
cal section. 

From   a  vivacious   letter  of  his   describing  the 

146 


DR.  BERNAYS  AT  THE  TIME  HE  BECAME  PROFESSOR  AT  THE 
ST.  LOUIS  COLLEGE  OF  PHYSICIANS  AND  SURGEONS. 


Dr.  Ber  nays'  Daring 

sessions  of  the  Congress,  that  was  published  in  the 
St.  Louis  Republic,  August  27,  1890,  I  quote 
some  paragraphs.  Nearly  all  the  great  men  men- 
tioned in  the  letter  are  now  dead.  It  reads  like  a 
page  from  a  diary,  torn  out  and  blown  by  some 
careless  breeze  across  the  two  decades  that  have 
elapsed  since  its  writing  —  a  sorrowful  page  now, 
in  spite  of  the  hearty  enjoyment  of  life  it  breathes: 

The  World's  Savants. 

It  was  undoubtedly  the  largest  and  most  important  gather- 
ing of  medical  men  ever  held  in  the  world.  Six  thousand 
members  were  registered,  besides  several  hundred  so-called 
participants  and  fourteen  hundred  ladies.  Germans  were,  of 
course,  by  far  in  the  majority,  the  meeting  being  in  their  own 
country.  Americans  were  next  in  strength,  numbering  700. 
Then  came  550  representatives  of  France  and  400  British 
physicians.  All  countries  on  the  face  of  the  globe  were  rep- 
resented by  their  best  men.  Among  the  out-of-the-way 
nations  represented  were  the  various  African  colonies,  East 
Indies,  China,  and  Japan.  All  had  come  to  contribute  the 
work  of  their  best  men,  and  to  learn  from  the  scientists  of 
other  nations  the  result  of  their  discoveries  in  the  many  fields 
of  medical  science. 

There  were  over  nine  hundred  papers  on  the  program  to 
be  read,  and,  although  the  sessions  were  governed  by  strict 
rules,  not  over  five  hundred  were  read,  as  time  would  not 
permit.  The  rules  limited  each  reader  to  twenty  minutes.  In 
discussions,  ten  minutes  were  the  limit.  In  the  surgical  sec- 
tion I  was  elected  secretary  to  represent  the  Americans,  and  I 
obtained  for  all  Americans  who  applied  to  me  an  opportunity 
to   read   their   papers.    The   rule    prohibiting  the   publication 

147 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

of  anything  as  a  part  of  the  transactions  which  was  not 
actually  read  in  the  session  was  strictly  enforced.  In  the 
surgical  section  by  far  the  largest  percentage  of  the  papers 
announced  were  read  by  Americans.  All  but  a  single  paper 
presented  in  that  department  was  read.  That  one  was  omitted 
because  its  author  was  not  present  when  his  name  was  called. 
A  rule  which  met  with  general  approval  was  the  one  electing 
one  honorary  president  from  each  nation,  or  rather  from  each 
of  the  larger  and  more  civilized  countries.  Thus  there  were 
nine  sessions  in  the  surgical  section,  each  one  governed  by 
a  different  president.  In  the  session  over  which  Sir  Joseph 
Lister  presided,  Dr.  Senn  and  I  had  the  honor  of  reading 
papers  on  gunshot  wounds  of  the  abdomen.  Dr.  Charles  T. 
Parkes  also  presided  at  one  of  the  sessions  of  that  section, 
representing  the  United  States.  A  remarkable  thing  at  the 
Congress  was  the  enthusiastic  applause  which  greeted  every 
effort  on  the  part  of  a  Frenchman.  Even  in  the  general  ses- 
sions the  French  representatives  were  always  loudly  cheered. 
Professor  von  Bergmann,  who  is  known  to  have  close  per- 
sonal relations  to  the  Emperor,  William  II.,  actually  delivered 
a  speech,  one  of  the  most  important  of  the  Congress,  on  the 
"  Aseptic  Treatment  of  Wounds,"  in  the  French  language. 
This  semi-official  tender  of  a  renewal  of  amicable  relations 
with  France  may  be  considered  rather  significant,  even  from 
a  political  point  of  view. 

The  Congress  Opened  by  Virchow. 

The  first  and  most  important  session  of  the  Congress  was 
opened  by  the  great  Virchow.  It  assembled  in  the  circus 
building,  an  amphitheater  which  comfortably  seats  6,500  peo- 
ple. The  entrances  to  this  building  and  to  the  theater  proper 
were  decorated  in  the  finest  and  most  elaborate  style,  after 
plans  and  designs  drawn  by  various  renowned  German  artists. 
Magnificent  statues  of  heroic  size  —  copies  of  masterpieces 
of  ancient  art  —  were  artistically  arranged  about  the  hall,  the 

148 


Dr.  Bernays'  Daring 

two  largest  and  most  conspicuous  being  casts  of  the  classic 
statues  of  ^Esculapius  and  Mercury.  The  ceiling  of  the  round 
hall  was  beautifully  draped  with  flags  of  different  nations. 

Virchow  stated  in  my  hearing  that  never  before  had  there 
been  congregated  in  one  place  on  this  planet  as  many  truly 
great  and  celebrated  medical  men  as  were  present  on  this 
occasion.  After  the  opening  ceremonies,  which  consisted  of 
speeches  of  welcome  and  greetings  from  the  representatives, 
Joseph  Lister  opened  the  scientific  work  by  a  lecture  on  "  The 
Present  Condition  of  Antiseptic  Surgery."  Lister  is  a  man 
of  medium  size  and  regular  proportions,  with  finely  cut  fea- 
tures and  a  calm  and  pleasant  facial  expression.  His  silvery 
white  hair,  which  extends  over  the  lower  part  of  his  face 
in  the  shape  of  well-kept  burnsides,  his  clear  but  not  loud 
voice,  and  his  way  of  using  his  eye-glasses,  together  with 
his  unassuming  phraseology,  confirmed  the  well-founded,  if 
preconceived,  respect  for  him  in  the  minds  of  thousands  of 
physicians  who  heard  and  saw  him  for  the  first  time.  The 
candor  with  which  he  confessed  his  errors  (he  said,  "  I  am 
ashamed  of  ever  having  introduced  it,"  referring  to  the 
carbolic  acid  spray),  and  the  very  evident  desire  on  his  part 
to  avoid  making  new  mistakes,  his  reserved  and  conserva- 
tive judgments,  and  his  admissions  in  favor  of  asepticism, 
created  for  him  the  most  complete  confidence,  amounting 
indeed  to  reverence  on  the  part  of  his  hearers.  Throughout 
the  Congress,  wherever  he  appeared,  he  was  the  recipient  of 
ovations  from  his  colleagues,  an  honor  and  a  distinction  which 
only  Virchow  and  Koch  shared  with  him. 

Koch  on  Bacteriology. 

After  Lister's  speech  the  great  Robert  Koch  read  a  most 
valuable  paper  on  "  Bacteriology,  Its  Methods  and  Practical 
Results."  He  expressed  his  conviction  that  physicians  would 
ultimately  learn  how  to  successfully  combat  tuberculosis  (con- 
sumption)   even   in   man.     He    stated   that    he   had    found   a 

149 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

method  of  treatment  which  would  make  certain  animals  (the 
guinea  pig)  perfectly  safe  from  that  disease,  and  would  com- 
pletely check  its  progress  even  after  the  disease  had  seriously 
affected  the  body.  He  thinks  that  we  may  ere  long  expect 
the  same  for  man. 

Perhaps  the  most  lasting  impression  by  any  one  paper  was 
made  by  that  of  Thiry,  of  Brussels,  on  "  The  Hygienic  and 
Moral  Dangers  of  Prostitution  to  the  Health  of  the  People." 
He  made  a  strong  plea  for  a  joint  effort  on  the  part  of  all 
cultured  nations  to  take  this  matter  in  hand  and  to  regulate 
it.  By  most  accurate  observations  he  showed  how  the  popu- 
lation was  being  decimated  by  certain  diseases,  which  can  be 
prevented  if  the  vice  of  prostitution  (which,  no  matter  how 
much  we  deplore  it,  does  exist  and  will  exist  under  the 
Christian  marital  law)  is  properly  controlled  and  regulated  by 
law. 

The  festivities  were  begun  by  an  evening  lawn  party  for 
the  members  and  their  ladies,  given  at  the  Art  Exhibition  Hall 
and  Park.  This  magnificent  place  was  chartered  by  the  Con- 
gress for  the  entire  week.  Seventeen  sections  of  the  Con- 
gress held  their  working  sessions  in  the  beautiful  halls  of  the 
art  gallery,  where  the  finest  productions  of  modern  painters 
and  sculptors  were  on  exhibition.  Blackboards  and  demon- 
strating tables  had  been  arranged  in  each  one  of  the  halls, 
and  also  a  rostrum  and  seats  for  the  members.  The  park 
surrounding  the  Crystal  Palace,  as  well  as  the  halls  within, 
were  magnificently  illuminated.  Six  immense  military  bands 
and  two  string  orchestras  were  distributed  in  the  park  in 
such  a  way  as  to  keep  up  continual  playing.  A  fine  lunch 
and  good  clarets  and  Rhine  wines,  as  well  as  the  best  of 
"  Miinchner  Bier,"  were  freely  distributed  from  a  dozen 
buffets.  In  the  crowd  of  5,000  were  Sir  James  Paget  and 
daughters,  Peau  and  two  daughters,  Lawson  Tait,  Sir  Joseph 
Lister,  Sir  William  McCormack,  Virchow,  von  Bergmann, 
Dr.  Albert  Gihon,  Dr.   Hamilton,  Jonathan  Hutchinson,  Mr. 

I50 


Dr.  Bernays'  Daring 

Benjamin  Hart,  Dr.  Henry  Penwick,  Bardeleben,  Dr.  Karl 
Theodor,  Duke  of  Bavaria,  Victor  Horsley,  and  of  course  the 
German  celebrities  in  full  force. 

Dr.  Bernays'  Work. 

Before  the  Congress  met,  Dr.  George  W.  Cale,  who  ac- 
companied me  on  the  entire  trip,  and  I  made  a  tour  of  the 
hospitals  of  Europe.  I  paid  particular  attention  to  the  lines 
of  work  of  which  I  have  made  a  specialty  for  years  —  diseases 
of  the  stomach  and  abdominal  tumors  principally  —  but  I 
also  became  especially  interested  in  the  treatment  of  the 
surgical  diseases  of  the  kidneys  and  the  bladder,  troubles  of 
the  aged,  a  line  of  work  that  has  been  cultivated  with  great 
success  in  Germany  and  England.  I  purchased  some  appa- 
ratus and  quite  a  number  of  instruments  recently  invented. 

One  afternoon  at  5  o'clock  a  number  of  the  Berlin  pro- 
fessors gave  dinner  parties,  to  each  of  which  from  fifteen  to 
thirty  foreign  guests  were  invited.  After  dinner  we  drove  to 
the  Central  Hotel,  where  a  meeting  of  Americans  had  been 
called  to  take  some  action  in  regard  to  the  invitation  which 
had  come  from  Chicago  for  the  eleventh  Congress.  We  would 
undoubtedly  have  succeeded  in  getting  the  Congress  for  Chi- 
cago in  1893  had  it  not  been  for  Surgeon  Hamilton,  who,  in 
a  very  logical  speech,  summed  up  the  arguments  pro  and 
contra,  and  the  project  was  voted  down  by  a  large  majority 
of  the  Americans  present.  That  put  an  end  to  Chicago  am- 
bition, much  to  the  chagrin  of  Dr.  Liston  Montgomery,  who 
was  the  bearer  of  the  invitation.  It  is  better  thus,  because, 
in  order  to  equal  the  Berlin  Congress  in  Chicago,  an  ex- 
penditure of  at  least  $200,000  would  have  been  necessary,  and 
there  was  no  guarantee  that  the  money  would  be  forthcoming. 

Entertained  by  the  City. 

The  greatest  fete  of  the  week  took  place  at  the  City  Hall, 
where  the  members  were  entertained  by  the  city  of  Berlin. 

151 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

Americans  are  the  most  hospitable  people  on  earth,  and  can 
entertain  as  liberally  as  any  one,  but  we  all  agreed  that  an 
entertainment  such  as  the  one  at  the  Rathhaus  was  never 
before  witnessed.  The  beautiful  building,  a  masterwork  of 
architecture,  the  decorations,  the  music,  the  profusion  of  good 
things  for  the  inner  man,  together  with  the  consciousness  each 
one  had  of  being  in  the  company  of  the  greatest  number  of 
distinguished  workers  ever  before  assembled  upon  earth,  cre- 
ated an  enthusiasm  which  simply  beggars  description.  Some 
of  the  men,  in  their  ecstasy,  carried  Virchow  through  the  hall 
on  their  shoulders.  Lister  and  von  Bergmann,  and  Bardele- 
ben  and  Koch  were  cheered  to  the  echo  as  they  left  the  hall. 
Many  a  "  Katzenjammer  "  was  the  result  of  this  exuberance 
of  conviviality,  but,  be  it  said  to  the  credit  of  the  doctors,  no 
gross  excesses  were  committed  and  all  the  soreheads  got  well, 
with  the  exception  of  a  few  chronic  cases,  which  are  among 
the  most  malignant  and  incurable,  as  well  as  offensive,  ail- 
ments that  come  to  our  notice.  The  Americans,  with  two 
or  three  exceptions,  had  only  the  acute  form  of  the  disease, 
and  then  but  in  a  mild  shape. 

On  Wednesday,  after  the  day's  work,  the  dinners  of  the 
different  sections  took  place.  They  were  all  very  fine  affairs, 
but  by  general  consent  it  was  admitted  that  the  dinner  given 
by  the  German  Society  of  Surgery  to  the  members  of  the 
surgical  section  was  the  most  elaborate  and  the  most  elegantly 
conducted.  It  occurred  at  the  beautiful  winter  garden  of  the 
Central  Hotel,  von  Bergmann  presiding.  The  toasts  were  an- 
swered by  von  Bergmann,  Bardeleben,  and  Le  Fort.  Tren- 
delenburg toasted  "  The  Four  Honorary  Members  of  the 
German  Society  of  Surgery"  (Lister,  Paget,  Billroth,  Oilier). 
His  Royal  Highness,  Dr.  Karl  Theodor  of  Bavaria,  spoke  in 
honor  of  von  Bergmann.  Sir  Joseph  Lister  toasted  old 
Thiersch,  and  Thiersch  in  turn  drank  the  health  of  Sir  James 
Paget,  who  answered  with  some  appropriate  remarks.  Robert 
F.  Weir,  of  New  York,  spoke  on  behalf  of  the  Americans,  and 

152 


Dr.  Bernays'  Daring 

an  Italian  gave  thanks  for  the  honor  conferred  on  his  coun- 
try, which  will  entertain  the  Congress  in  Rome  in  1893.  This 
was  undoubtedly  the  greatest  surgical  dinner  ever  given. 
Scarcely  a  name  well  known  to  surgeons  in  any  country  on 
the  globe  was  missing  from  the  list  of  participants. 

Soon  after  his  return  from  this  trip  the  Doctor 
severed  his  relations  with  the  College  of  Physicians 
and  Surgeons,  and  accepted  a  professorship  in  the 
Marion  Sims  College.  About  the  same  time  we 
removed  from  North  St.  Louis  to  Laclede  avenue, 
just  wTest  of  Grand  avenue,  where  we  were  still 
living  when  the  Doctor  died  sixteen  years  later. 
The  location  was  very  convenient  to  the  Marion 
Sims  College  and  the  Rebekah  Hospital  —  for  sev- 
eral years  the  scene  of  the  Doctor's  main  operations. 

I  find  among  my  clippings  of  the  year  1893  a 
greatly  increased  reference  to  the  Doctor's  daring. 
Indeed  his  audacity  is  dwelt  upon  fully  as  much  as 
his  skill  and  his  good  results.  It  is  a  curious  fact 
that  even  now  people  remember  him  chiefly  for  his 
daring  —  his  admirers  with  approbation,  and  that 
part  of  the  public  that  takes  its  cue  from  his  enemies 
or  from  old  fogyism  with  a  distinctly  condemnatory 
emphasis  on  the  word.  It  is,  however,  perfectly 
obvious  to  those  who  have  the  gift  of  observation 
that  what  for  one  man  would  be  reckless  license  and 
unwarranted  boldness  is  for  another  only  a  legiti- 

153 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

mate  action  —  a  duty  his  special  talents  force  upon 
him.  In  truth,  the  daring  of  one  generation  is  fre- 
quently the  commonplace  occupation  of  the  next. 
Quite  intuitively  the  worship  of  the  world  is,  there- 
fore, to  him  who  dares.  Inasmuch  as  every  Tom, 
Dick,  and  Harry  in  the  medical  profession  now 
opens  the  abdominal  cavity,  and  no  one  —  whether 
the  result  is  good,  bad,  or  indifferent  —  criticises 
him  for  daring,  it  is  truly  depressing  to  review  the 
beginning  of  my  brother's  career  and  to  realize  what 
mountains  of  prejudice  he  had  to  overcome. 

By  the  end  of  1893  he  had  done  about  a  thou- 
sand laparotomies  with  magnificent  success,  and, 
though  his  methods  were  still  stigmatized  as  dar- 
ing, in  the  eyes  of  the  fair-minded  and  well-posted 
on  surgery  he  had  won  the  day.  This  is  the  way 
W.  M.  Reedy,  in  the  "  Character  Photograph  "  he 
wrote  for  the  Mirror  at  about  this  period  of  my 
brother's  activity,  expresses  the  feeling  of  the  time 
with  regard  to  Dr.  Bernays : 

Dr.  Bernays  is  a  surgeon,  so  much  of  a  surgeon  that  a 
local  wit  has  said  that  if  a  man  went  to  Bernays  with  a  bad 
corn,  the  first  thing  the  surgeon  would  suggest  would  be  an 
amputation  at  the  knee ;  or  if  one  called  on  him  with  a  case 
of  catarrh,  the  remedy  would  be  a  new  nose.  There  is  just 
enough  truth  in  this  bit  of  badinage  to  give  a  clew  to  the 
reasons  for  his  success.  It  expresses  the  idea  that  he  does 
not  hesitate  to  decide  upon  the  remedy  at  once,  though  the 

154 


Dr.  Bernays'  Daring 

remedy  be  of  the  desperate  order.  It  is  his  celerity  of  deter- 
mination upon  an  operation,  and  the  celerity  and  deftness  of 
its  performance,  that  furnishes  the  key  to  his  marvelous  suc- 
cess. He  experiences  a  joy  in  the  performance  of  a  difficult 
surgical  feat  that  would  give  one  some  idea  of  what  a  frenzy 
possessed  the  performer  of  the  crude  surgery  of  the  White- 
chapel  district.  They  tell  a  story  of  his  humming  the 
"  Gaudeamus  Igitur  "  while  performing  a  most  difficult  opera- 
tion. A  man  who  can  thus  enjoy  pleasant  recollections  of 
old  Heidelberg  while  holding  another's  life  in  his  hand  has 
certainly  a  self-possession  far  above  the  ordinary.  It  is  un- 
canny to  look  at,  but  how  much  more  uncanny  it  would  be 
to  behold  a  surgeon  trembling  and  fumbling  over  a  person  to 
be  operated  on.  It  is  the  sure  touch  that  tells  —  the  confi- 
dence that  perhaps  renders  his  subjects  less  difficult  of  ma- 
nipulation. 

Exactly!  and  on  more  than  one  occasion,  when 
the  solemn,  dignified,  perhaps  prayerful,  brother  in 
the  profession  fumbled  over  a  difficult  operation, 
the  man  who  hummed  "  Gaudeamus  Igitur  "  as  he 
stitched  up  a  wound,  happy  to  have  helped  a  suf- 
fering brother  or  sister,  was  welcomed  like  a  rescu- 
ing angel  if  perchance  he  appeared  before  the  vic- 
tim of  the  nonelect  to  surgery  had  bled  to  death. 
It  is  a  subject  of  general  knowledge  that  more  than 
once,  when  some  rash  would-be  surgeon  stood,  at 
his  wits'  end,  over  a  patient  about  to  die  on  the 
operating  table,  he  was  extricated  from  his  ghastly 
position  by  a  pitying  nurse,  who  stole  out  of  the 
room  and  hailed  my  brother  to  save  a  life. 

155 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

Daring!  There  are  some  stories  current  about 
him  that  could  indeed  be  described  by  no  other 
word.  They  tell,  for  instance,  of  a  feat  of  his  when 
he  was  on  his  way  home  from  the  East,  either  from 
Saratoga  or  more  likely  from  a  European  trip. 
It  must  have  been  quite  early  in  his  career  —  as 
long  ago  as  the  eighties.  He  rarely  traveled  abroad 
without  surgical  instruments,  but  on  this  occa- 
sion he  had  none  of  his  outfit  with  him.  In  the 
dead  of  night  a  train  attendant,  who  knew  him  by 
sight  and  reputation,  summoned  him  from  his  berth, 
saying  that  in  the  adjoining  car  a  passenger  was 
groaning  in  such  terrible  agony  that  he  was  keep- 
ing everybody  awake.  The  Doctor  found  the  man 
afflicted  with  a  hernia  that  had  suddenly  become 
strangulated.  Without  hesitation,  seeing  the  inac- 
cessibility of  other  relief  and  the  man's  terrible 
suffering,  he  took  out  his  pocket-knife  and  then  and 
there  divided  the  constriction.  The  physician  who 
told  me  of  this  incident  quietly  commented  on  it, 
"  You  see  he  was  a  man  so  fertile  in  resource  and  so 
absolutely  sure  of  himself  that  he  could  dare  do 
this." 

In  and  out  of  the  profession  people  were  aghast 
and  agape  when  in  1894  he  operated  on  his  own  sis- 
ter, Mrs.  Wislocki.  Some  envied  him  his  astound- 
ing sang-froid  —  like  young  Eastman,  a  fellow-stu- 

156 


Dr.  Ber nays'  Daring 

dent  of  Dr.  Bartlett  in  Berlin,  who,  commenting 
on  this  occurrence,  said,  "  he  would  give  much  to 
know  Dr.  Bernavs,  because  he  had  more  self-confi- 
dence  than  any  one  else  he  had  ever  heard  of."  It 
happened  this  way.  Lily,  after  the  loss  of  her  sec- 
ond husband,  was  living  in  San  Jose,  California, 
with  her  three  children.  From  her  reports  and 
those  of  her  physician,  August  surmised  the  nature 
of  her  trouble.  A  congress  of  medical  men  was  to 
take  place  at  San  Francisco  about  that  time,  and 
quite  a  contingent  of  these  went  on  the  same  train 
we  took  to  go  West.  Dr.  Eastman,  of  Indian- 
apolis, who  was  to  be  at  the  Congress,  had  been 
engaged  to  operate  on  Lily  in  case  surgical  interfer- 
ence should  be  found  necessary.  After  seeing  her, 
August  decided  that  he  would  take  her  at  once  to 
San  Francisco,  where  Dr.  Eastman  would  have  in 
the  meantime  arrived.  He  intended  to  remain  in 
attendance  on  her  at  the  hospital  until  she  was  well, 
while  I  stayed  in  San  Jose  with  her  children.  On 
learning  that  Dr.  Eastman  was  detained  in  Indian- 
apolis, and  had  given  up  his  western  trip,  he  pre- 
pared her  for  the  operation  and  operated  on  her  him- 
self. He  found  what  he  expected  to  find,  and  a 
dangerous  and  difficult  case  it  was.  He  told  me 
afterward  that  when  he  realized  that  Dr.  Eastman 
had  disappointed  him,  he  reviewed  the  whole  array 

+  57 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

of  surgeons  there  assembled,  and,  feeling  sure  that 
there  was  not  one  among  them  who  could  operate 
approximately  as  well  as  he,  or  had  half  his  experi- 
ence, he  concluded  it  was  his  duty  to  do  it  himself. 
"  I  knew,"  he  said,  "  that  as  soon  as  I  got  to  work 
I  should  forget  my  feelings,  forget  that  the  patient 
was  my  sister,  and  be  intent  on  and  wholly  ab- 
sorbed in  the  task  before  me.  And  that  is  exactly 
what  happened." 

These  words  of  his  own  explain  how  he  could 
hum  students'  songs  while  doing  what  —  however 
grewsome  it  might  look  to  others  —  to  him  had  be- 
come a  gratifying  habit,  in  which  automatically  all 
the  energies,  except  those  he  needed,  were  for  the 
moment  submerged.  To  the  always  self-conscious, 
to  the  wholly  self-centered,  such  concentration,  such 
temporary  extinction  of  that  part  of  self  which 
would  be  a  hindrance  in  action,  looks  uncanny. 
They  find  for  it  such  absurd  phrases  as  "  tempting 
Providence."  It  is  a  state  of  mind  akin  to  the  ab- 
straction which  poets  and  prophets  know  under  the 
name  of  inspiration.  The  reaction  —  often  great 
—  is  felt  afterward. 

The  Doctor's  thoughts,  when  at  work,  were  so 
divorced  from  all  that  did  not  have  to  do  with  it 
that  he  almost  habitually  left  his  diamond  ring 
where  he  had  put  it  down  before  making  his  hands 

158 


Dr.  Bernays'  Daring 

thoroughly  aseptic,  and  had  to  depend  on  its  resto- 
ration by  some  attentive  nurse  or  assistant.  The 
fee,  too,  was  deposited  on  a  table  or  stand  near 
by  and  promptly  forgotten.  The  assistants  chaffed 
him  about  these  nonchalant  habits  until  at  one  time 
he  made  the  standing  offer  that  whoever  could  cap- 
ture and  pocket  the  fee  after  he  had  actually  left 
the  house  might  keep  it.  Once  he  got  as  far  as 
the  gate,  I  am  told,  but  something  at  the  back  of 
his  head  —  perhaps  the  attention  of  the  young  men 
concentrating  itself  on  the  pelf  —  seemed  to  warn 
him  before  he  passed  out,  so  that  no  one  else  after 
all  got  the  money. 

Dr.  Bernays  describes  in  his  "  Golden  Rules  of 
Surgery  "  an  operation  for  stricture  of  the  esopha- 
gus which  he  did  on  a  child  6^2  years  of  age,  in 
1895,  as  the  one  which  required  more  courage  on 
his  part  than  any  other  in  his  entire  career.  He 
says,  in  noting  the  steps  of  the  first  preparatory 
operation  in  this  case,  "  I  shudder  even  today  at 
the  fearful  chances  I  took  to  save  a  life,"  and  he 
tells  of  a  Harvard  professor  named  Warren  who 
cited  this  operation  to  a  class  of  medical  students 
as  "  among  the  most  daring  ever  undertaken."  He 
accepted  the  terrible  risk  because  this  child  of  6^4 
years  weighed  only  nineteen  pounds  when  he  first 
saw  her,  having  been  fed  for  four  years  through  an 

159 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

artificial  fistula  leading  into  the  stomach.  "  She 
was,"  he  continues,  "  evidently  growing  weaker  all 
the  time.  The  mucous  membrane  of  the  stomach 
was,  no  doubt,  partially  cauterized  away,  and  the 
fistula  was  leaking  constantly  and  was  not  working 
satisfactorily.  Death  would  surely  have  ensued 
had  the  condition  not  been  remedied."  In  a  short 
time  after  the  second  operation,  which  reestablished 
the  natural  passage  through  the  esophagus  into  the 
stomach,  the  child  weighed  forty-two  pounds,  and, 
though  obliged  to  use  bougies  to  keep  the  esopha- 
gus from  closing  again,  grew  up  to  be  a  healthy  girl. 
In  concluding  his  description  of  this  remarkable 
case,  that  had  so  amazing  and  hideous  a  sequel 
in  the  courts  —  of  which  hereafter  —  my  brother 
says : 

I  have  often  been  asked  by  students  and  physicians  what 
operation  during  my  long  experience  I  considered  as  the 
greatest  and  the  one  requiring  most  "  nerve."  I  always  an- 
swer that  a  surgeon  who  operates  on  his  nerve  is  a  dangerous 
man  and  not  well  qualified.  The  quality  called  "nerve"  by 
Americans  and  English  should  not  be  required  —  in  fact,  is  not 
a  valuable  asset  in  a  well-educated  surgeon.  Let  us  remember, 
however,  that  it  takes  a  lot  of  nerve  even  to  puncture  the 
pleural  cavity,  or  to  make  an  abdominal  puncture,  or  do  a 
tapping  operation  in  a  case  of  dropsy,  if  the  surgeon  has  not 
the  anatomical  and  physiological  training.  Nerve  is  valuable 
to  a  surgeon  if  it  means  courage  to  do  his  duty,  which  he  has 
recognized  after  exhausting  all  scientific  methods  of  diagnosis 

1 60 


Dr.  Bernays'  Daring 

and  after  his  judgment  says,  "Take  the  risk,  because  it  seems 
likely  to  prolong  or  save  life,  or  to  palliate  otherwise  fatal 
disease." 

When  one  considers  the  amount  of  heroism  re- 
quired by  men  who  thus  bear  the  banner  of  scien- 
tific progress  into  new  territory  without  counting 
the  fearful  cost  to  their  nerves,  it  is  no  great  won- 
der their  hearts  give  out  at  fifty-two.  Working 
amidst  suffering,  under  difficulties,  facing  danger 
all  the  days  of  the  long  years,  and  lying  awake 
many  hours  of  the  night  devising  the  steps  of  to- 
morrow's cases,  or  reviewing  in  memory  those  of 
today,  wondering  whether  the  fraction  of  a  chance 
has  been  missed,  the  minimum  of  a  possible  advan- 
tage overlooked,  how  can  they  long  resist  such  a 
strain  ?  Even  while  engaged  in  the  struggle  to  stay 
the  suffering,  to  prolong  the  years  for  their  patients, 
to  promote  the  science  they  are  trying  to  serve,  they 
are  obliged  constantly  to  defend  their  own  charac- 
ter and  reputation  against  the  attacks  of  captious 
and  envious  rivals  in  their  own  ranks.  This  hap- 
pened to  my  brother  for  the  last  time  in  January, 
1898.  On  that  occasion  he  gave  his  decriers  a  pub- 
lic lesson  so  forcible  and  telling  that  for  the  balance 
of  his  career  he  was  not  again  molested  in  this  par- 
ticular way.  The  rebuke  he  administered  through 
the  columns  of  the  Republic  explains  the  situation 

161 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

so  well  that  I  need  not  go  into  it  further  than  to 
reprint  his  words.     The  article  is  as  follows : 

Dr.  Bernays  Answers  His  Medical  Critics  —  The  Surgeon 
Defends  His  Operation  of  Removing  a  Man's  Stomach. 

Dr.  A.  C.  Bernays  gives  the  following  statement  to  the 
Republic  in  reply  to  criticisms  made  by  medical  men  anent  his 
recent  operation  in  removing  a  man's  stomach : 

In  your  issue  of  yesterday  you  published  a  report  of  an 
operation  which  I  performed  in  a  case  of  cancer  of  the  stom- 
ach. The  operation  was  given  much  prominence  in  the  press 
because  it  followed  closely  on  a  similar  one  performed  recently 
in  Switzerland.  The  European  operation  resulted  in  prolong- 
ing the  life  of  a  woman,  while  my  operation  proved  fatal. 
The  Swiss  operation  was  the  first  successful  one  in  which 
the  whole  of  the  stomach  was  removed  from  a  human  being. 
My  case  was  not  the  first  one  in  which  this  operation  had 
been  unsuccessful,  but  it  seems  to  have  been  the  first  operation 
of  this  character  in  America.  I  am  of  the  opinion  that  the 
operation  of  total  excision  of  the  stomach  for  cancerous  dis- 
ease will  become  a  perfectly  recognized  and  successful  part  of 
surgical  practice.  I  predict  that  the  successful  operation  of 
Schlatter  will  soon  be  followed  by  many  others,  both  in  Eu- 
rope and  in  this  country.  I  shall  certainly  perform  it  again, 
and  I  am  confident  of  success  in  a  suitable  case. 

When  I  began  practice  in  St.  Louis  twenty  years  ago  I 
was  told  by  Dr.  Hodgen,  who  was  then  the  busiest  practitioner 
in  this  city,  that  abdominal  operations  were  not  justifiable 
in  his  opinion,  and  he  added  that  he  had  done  sixteen  opera- 
tions for  abdominal  tumors  and  that  he  had  fifteen  tombstones 
to  mark  their  results.  Dr.  Hodgen  was  a  good  physician  and 
an  excellent  operator.  Notwithstanding  this  statement,  which 
he  frequently  repeated,  many  surgeons,  I  among  them,  have 
since  then  operated  on  thousands  of  cases  of  abdominal  tumors 

162 


Dr.  Bernays'  Daring 

with  very  satisfactory  results.  I  may  be  permitted  to  say  that 
I  did  the  first  successful  operation  in  this  city  in  a  case  of 
cancer  of  the  womb,  removing  the  whole  of  the  organ.  I  also 
removed  gall  stones,  and  have  operated  in  cases  of  perforating 
gunshot  wounds  of  the  stomach  and  intestines. 

There  was  a  time  when  these  operations  were  described  as 
being  dangerous  experiments  on  human  beings ;  they  were 
called  "  daring  and  unwarrantable."  They  were  condemned 
by  members  of  the  medical  profession. 

The  general  practitioner  or  family  physician  is  the  one  who 
is  usually  called  on  by  his  patient  for  advice  in  selecting  a 
surgeon  to  perform  a  difficult  operation.  It  is  a  general  prac- 
titioner's business  to  keep  himself  posted  about  the  scientific 
qualifications  and  also  about  the  technical  skill  of  the  surgeons 
who  practice  in  his  city.  The  greatest  compliment  which  can 
be  paid  to  a  surgeon  is  to  be  called  in  by  a  physician  to  per- 
form a  dangerous  and  difficult  operation,  whereas  to  be  called 
to  operate  by  a  layman  carries  with  it  but  little  honor  and  is 
often  very  unsatisfactory  in  its  results.  My  greatest  happiness 
consists  in  doing  a  successful  operation  and  receiving  the 
praises  of  my  medical  confreres  for  my  work. 

In  yesterday's  Republic  five  physicians  were  interviewed, 
and  all  expressed  themselves  in  more  or  less  polite  language 
as  opposed  to  the  operation  of  gastrotomy.  None  of  them 
have  ever  performed  the  operation,  none  of  them  have  ever 
seen  it  performed,  but  they  are  willing  to  rush  into  print  and 
give  their  opinions  to  the  public,  condemning  the  operation. 
Their  criticisms  are  made  in  such  words  as  to  let  the  public 
feel  that  they  are  tender-hearted,  conservative,  and  would  not 
harm  a  fly.  In  other  words,  their  play  is  to  the  gallery.  The 
dress  circle  and  the  parquet  are  not  addressed  at  all  by  some 
of  the  actors. 

My  work  is  for  the  profession  only.  The  members  of  the 
medical  profession  are  the  only  persons  competent  to  judge 
of  the  work  of  a  surgeon,  and  only  when  they  have  seen  his 

163 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

work  and  watched  his  results  carefully  can  they  pass  judg- 
ment on  him.  I  do  not  care  for  approval  of  my  surgical  work 
from  the  public,  and  I  never  operate  upon  a  case  unless  it 
is  referred  to  me  by  a  physician  or  a  surgeon.  My  reasons 
for  this  plan  of  practicing  are  good  ones,  and  any  thinking 
person  can  see  that  the  best  results  can  be  achieved  in  any 
line  by  selecting  expert  workmen.  The  selection  of  a  surgeon 
must  be  done  by  a  competent  judge,  and,  therefore,  of  necessity 
by  a  medical  man. 

I  shall  continue  to  practice  surgery  for  the  profession  as 
I  have  been  doing  for  some  years  past,  with  a  full  measure 
of  financial  success  as  well  as  spiritual  satisfaction.  In  this 
way  my  artistic  sense,  my  scientific  feeling,  and  my  profes- 
sional aspirations  can  best  be  subserved.  The  applause  of  the 
masses  has  no  charm  for  me.  I  prefer  the  approval  of  my 
colleagues,  which  comes  as  a  result  of  their  trained  and  edu- 
cated judgment  in  surgical  matters. 

There  are  about  1,500  medical  men  in  this  city  and  about 
75,000  doctors  in  the  country  who  naturally  look  to  St.  Louis 
for  their  experts  and  specialists  in  surgery.  It  is  from  them 
that  I  receive  my  work  and  my  reward.  The  carping  criti- 
cisms of  rivals  adds  a  little  spice  to  my  daily  bread.  I  hope 
my  competitors  will  continue  to  woo  that  many-headed  and 
fickle  goddess,  the  public.  May  they  continue  to  capture  pub- 
lic favor  by  their  vulgar  play  to  the  gallery.  I  have  cast  my 
lot  with  the  cultured  and  refined  members  of  the  profession. 

He  carried  out  his  intention  as  indicated  in  this 
letter,  and  performed  a  number  of  total  and  sub- 
total gastrectomies,  some  of  them  with  excellent 
results.  When  I  asked  several  of  his  former  as- 
sistants how  his  subsequent  patients  who  had  un- 
dergone this  most  radical  of  surgical  interferences 

164 


Dr.  Bernays'  Daring 

had  fared,  "  He  has  quite  a  number  of  stomach 
excisions  running  about  alive,"  they  assured  me  in 
their  quaint  medical  jargon.  In  corroboration  of 
their  statement,  one  of  his  "  live  stomach  excisions  " 
soon  after  my  inquiry  introduced  herself  to  me 
when  I  was  giving  up  the  old  house  on  Laclede 
avenue  in  May,  1909.  A  little  old  lady  presented 
herself  there  one  day,  and  sent  up  word  she  wished 
to  see  me  about  some  rugs  I  was  disposing  of.  She 
was  in  the  hall,  and  as  I  came  down  the  stairs  ad- 
vanced toward  me,  saying,  "  Don't  you  know  me, 
Miss  Bernays  ?  "  She  was  a  perfectly  hale  woman 
about  60  years  old,  whom  assuredly  I  had  never 
seen  before,  nor  did  I  remember  to  have  heard  her 
name.  Astonished  and  somewhat  offended  not  to 
be  recognized,  she  burst  out,  "  Why,  I  am  the  lady 
whose  stomach  your  brother  took  out  nine  years 
ago.  And  he  lectured  about  me  —  I  heard  him  — 
with  my  stomach  there  in  a  big  glass  jar."  On  my 
solicitously  inquiring  as  to  her  present  health,  she 
assured  me  that  she  was  perfectly  well,  and  ate 
three  meals  a  day  without  qualm  or  pain  of  any 
kind.  She  certainly  appeared  wonderfully  spry  for 
a  woman  who  had  had  twelve  children,  not  to  men- 
tion the  loss  of  her  stomach. 

To  remove  all  or  part  of  the  stomach  is  not,  of 
course,   as  easy  as  to   do  appendectomy,   and   the 

165 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

operation  must  always  remain  confined  to  great 
surgeons  in  the  fullness  of  their  mental  and  physical 
vigor,  to  men  who  have  made  a  long  and  labori- 
ous study  of  the  most  difficult  and  trying  cases  of 
ulcers,  growths,  and  cancers  of  the  stomach.  My 
brother  had  done  this,  and  as  early  as  1887  in- 
vented operative  means  for  the  relief  of  the  terrible 
suffering  from  cancerous  growths  in  that  organ. 

In  his  "  Golden  Rules  of  Surgery  "  Dr.  Bernays 
says,  by  wray  of  summing  up  his  experience,  that 
progress  in  the  saving  of  human  life  from  this  ter- 
rible scourge  of  cancer  of  the  stomach  must  come 
through  early  recognition  of  the  symptoms  by  the 
scientific  pathologist  and  diagnostician,  who  will 
hereafter  call  in  the  operator,  it  is  hoped,  before  the 
disease  has  made  such  inroads  as  to  necessitate  the 
desperate  total  gastrectomy. 


166 


CHAPTER  XI 

DR.  BERNAYS'  VIEWS  ON  FEES 

I  hold  a  good  surgeon  to  be  in  the  front  rank  of  public 
benefactors  —  where  they  put  rich  brewers,  bankers,  and  spec- 
ulative manufacturers  now. —  G.  Meredith  in  "  Beauchamp's 
Career." 

The  degree  of  estimation  in  which  any  profession  is  held 
becomes  the  standard  of  the  estimation  in  which  the  profes- 
sors hold  themselves. —  Burke. 

When  by  habit  a  man  cometh  to  have  a  bargaining  soul, 
its  wings  are  cut,  so  that  he  can  never  soar. —  Lord  Halifax. 

The  human  frame's  to  thee  a  Gordian  knot. 
Thou'll  not  untie  it,  but  will  straightway  cut 
And  solve  the  riddle  with  Alexander's  pschutt. 

Hail,  laparotomist !     Thou'rt  Johnny  on  the  spot! 

Thy  fees  would  Croesus  break  in  two  —  that's  what! 
Millionaire  murderer's  money  now  doth  glut 
Thy  purse  until  thou  scarce  can  make  it  shut. 

0  thou  and  the  lawyers !     What  a  snap  ye've  got ! 

1  honor  thee  for  all  the  lives  thou'st  won, 
Because  thou'st  often  snatched  a  prize  from  Death. 

I'd  rather  trust  thy  skill  than  preacher's  prayers, 
Were  I  sore  wounded,  by  disease  undone, 

And,  shouldst  thou  fail,  would  say  with  latest  breath, 
Thou  art  the  friendliest  Indian  underneath  the  sun. 

—  Sophistodes. 

167 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

Under  the  name  of  Sophistocles,  W.  M.  Reedy, 
in  the  above  sonnet,  from  a  series  he  was  at  that 
time  publishing,  happily  satirized  the  opinion  of  the 
vulgar  regarding  Dr.  Bernays'  precipitation  with 
the  knife  and  his  exaggerated  demands  on  the 
purses  of  his  patients.  Of  these  accusations  I  shall 
have  a  word  to  say  hereafter,  because  they  were 
seriously  made  by  some  of  his  enemies  and  often 
used  to  his  detriment. 

But  first  the  story  of  the  millionaire  murderer. 
Arthur  Duestrow  was  the  son  of  German  parents 
of  the  Southside,  and  the  father  had  by  sheer  blind 
luck  become  extremely  wealthy.  Old  Duestrow  in 
the  early  eighties,  it  seems,  bought  Granite  Moun- 
tain shares  in  large  blocks,  paying  but  a  trifling 
amount  for  the  share.  As  is  well  known,  this  stock 
afterward  rose  to  about  $70,  and  for  a  time  paid 
enormous  dividends.  The  parents  of  Duestrow 
died,  leaving  a  large  fortune  to  their  married  son 
Arthur  and  his  sister.  Young  Duestrow,  unprin- 
cipled and  unrestrained,  soon  began  to  make  the 
worst  possible  use  of  his  wealth.  After  a  debauch 
he  returned  home  one  morning,  frenzied  by  drink, 
seized  his  only  child,  a  little  boy  of  three,  and, 
pinioning  him  to  the  wall  with  his  hands,  shot 
him  through  the  breast,  instantly  killing  him.  Then 
he  discharged  the  three  shots  remaining  in  his  re- 

168 


Dr.  Bernays"  Views  on  Fees 

volver  at  the  head  of  his  unfortunate  wife  as  she 
ran  to  the  rescue  of  her  little  son.  Dr.  Bernays 
was  called  to  attend  the  horribly  mutilated  woman, 
and  arrived  at  her  bedside  about  an  hour  after  the 
enacting  of  the  grewsome  scene.  By  a  delicate  and 
desperate  operation  he  managed  to  extract  two  of 
the  bullets  and  a  part  of  the  third,  as  well  as  sev- 
enty pieces  of  the  bone  of  the  fractured  skull.  He 
is  said  on  this  occasion  to  have  intrenched  further 
on  sacred  ground  than  had  ever  been  done  before. 
But  though,  with  his  accustomed  optimism,  he 
hoped,  in  the  face  of  the  terrible  odds  against  her, 
to  save  the  poor  woman,  he  succeeded  only  in  pro- 
longing her  life  for  five  or  six  days.  The  mur- 
derer was  apprehended,  and  the  usual  efforts  of  the 
lawyers  on  the  usual  plea  of  insanity  began  as  soon 
as  he  was  brought  to  trial.  The  lurid  case  figured 
in  the  public  prints  for  several  years  until  the  exe- 
cution of  the  wretched  creature  gave  the  final  touch 
of  ghastliness  to  the  hideous  story. 

My  brother,  with  his  accustomed  perspicacity, 
saw  a  unique  opportunity  to  raise  the  standard  of 
values  hitherto  current  in  his  profession.  He  knew 
that  on  the  part  of  the  lawyers  there  would  be  no 
hesitation  in  demanding  immense  sums  for  trying 
to  save  the  life  of  the  criminal.  Why  should  a  sur- 
geon, whose  skill  and  reputation  were  unquestioned 

169 


Augustus  Charles  Bemays 

by  his  peers  all  over  the  world,  knowing  he  had 
done  superlative  work  in  his  effort  to  save  the  life 
of  the  innocent  victim,  allow  his  service,  and  there- 
with that  of  the  whole  medical  profession,  to  be 
underestimated  in  the  usual  way?  Dr.  Bernays  did 
not  see  why.  Heirs  there  were  none,  excepting  a 
sister  of  simple  tastes,  who  was  amply  provided 
for.  He,  therefore,  brought  in  a  bill  of  $15,800  for 
his  services  and  those  of  his  assistants.  This  was 
promptly  disputed  by  the  trustees  of  the  estate  as 
excessive,  and  a  suit  was  brought,  which  my  brother 
had  the  full  intention  of  carrying,  if  necessary,  to 
the  court  of  highest  jurisdiction,  "  in  order,"  he 
says  in  an  interview  with  a  New  York  paper,  "  to 
get  a  ruling  from  the  court  of  last  resort  that 
would  settle  for  all  time  the  question  as  to  whether 
the  surgeon  or  physician  is  or  is  not  the  sole  judge 
of  his  professional  services,  subject,  of  course,  to 
the  approval  of  disinterested  expert  testimony." 

The  Bernays  versus  Duestrow  case,  side  by  side 
with  the  Arthur  Duestrow  trial,  dragged  on  for  sev- 
eral years,  and  caused  a  great  deal  of  comment  in 
and  outside  of  St.  Louis.  In  fact,  on  a  recent  visit 
to  England  I  was  told  that  my  brother  was  in  this 
instance  supposed  to  have  been  the  recipient  of  the 
largest  fee  ever  accorded  a  surgeon  —  £5,000.  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  $5,000  was  all  he  finally  received. 

170 


Dr.  Bernays*  Views  on  Fees 

Whether  he  was  persuaded  by  his  attorney  to  com- 
promise for  that  sum;  whether  he  had  anticipated 
the  receipt  of  this  money  by  a  purchase  of  a  longer 
string  of  horses  than  he  could,  without  collecting 
this  large  fee,  afford ;  whether  he  became  convinced 
that  the  Duestrow  millions  had  never  existed  in 
fact,  or  had  dwindled  to  very  modest  proportions, 
he  at  any  rate  reduced  his  bill  to  $5,000,  the  jus- 
tice of  which  claim  was  not  disputed  and  promptly 
paid. 

It  is  a  curious  fact  that  in  practical  America  so 
great  a  confusion  of  opinion  and  feeling  regarding 
fees  to  medical  men  should  exist.  One  reason  for 
this  condition  undoubtedly  is  the  lack  of  solidarity 
between  the  doctors  —  the  envy  and  jealousy  which 
causes  some  of  them  to  bite  off  their  own  noses  to 
spite  their  faces.  Too  many  practitioners,  because 
of  personal  feeling,  still  follow  the  myopic  policy 
of  belittling  the  achievement  of  a  confrere  and  of 
begrudging  him  a  commensurate  fee  when  called 
to  give  expert  testimony.  Such  foolish  and  near- 
sighted action  on  the  part  of  many  of  them  can  be 
depended  on  with  certainty,  and  is  counted  on  by 
those  who  are  anxious  enough  to  obtain  the  best 
medical  and  surgical  advice  when  they  stand  in 
need  of  it,  but  unwilling  to  properly  remunerate  it 
afterward. 

171 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

With  some  conspicuous  exceptions,  it  is  true  that 
the  readiness  to  adequately  remunerate  the  medical 
adviser  stands  in  inverse  ratio  to  the  wealth  of  the 
person  seeking  relief  from  a  doctor.  The  late  Dr. 
Pollack,  of  St.  Louis,  used  to  say  that  when  a 
woman  much  bedecked  and  pretentious  in  her  de- 
meanor entered  his  office,  he  was  almost  certain  of 
having  to  render  gratuitous  service;  if,  by  her  ap- 
pearance, the  patient  indicated  easy  circumstances, 
he  had  some  hopes;  but  if  she  came  modestly  and 
neatly  attired  in  calico,  he  was  sure  of  his  fee. 

Everybody  knows  that  the  medical  profession  is 
the  only  one  obliged  to  do  an  enormous  propor- 
tion of  its  work  for  charity.  It  is  done  uncom- 
plainingly and  as  a  matter  of  course  by  most  medical 
men.  From  the  very  nature  and  the  exigency  of 
the  service  required  —  relief  to  the  suffering  —  it 
is  impossible  for  him  who  possesses  the  equipment 
to  refuse  to  render  assistance.  He  can  not,  except 
sporadically,  ascertain  the  circumstances  of  those 
requiring  his  time,  his  strength,  his  skill.  In  in- 
numerable instances,  therefore,  his  good  nature  is 
imposed  upon.  His  work  is  made  to  go  unremuner- 
ated  or  so  ill  paid  as  almost  to  amount  to  a  gift,  and 
this  in  cases  where  people  are  amply  able  to  requite 
properly.  Of  the  really  poor,  who  depend  upon  the 
physician  not  only  for  medical  advice,  but  who  are 

172 


Dr.  Ber nays'  Views  on  Fees 

besides  often  beneficiaries  of  his  charity  by  gifts 
of  money  and  money's  worth,  I  do  not  here  speak, 
but  of  those  who  make  a  poor  mouth  or  beat  down 
and  "  dock  "  the  doctor's  bill  because  they  know  he 
needs  the  money,  and,  rather  than  enter  into  a  dis- 
pute and  have  the  payment  deferred,  will  accept  a 
lesser  sum  —  of  those  who  will  basely  take  advan- 
tage of  the  practitioner's  loathing  of  the  discussion 
of  the  financial  part  of  the  transaction.  There  are 
some  impudent  enough  even  to  ask  that  the  "  ad- 
vertisement "  the  doctor  gets  from  being  employed 
by  people  of  such  importance  as  money-bags  often 
conceive  themselves  to  be,  should  figure  as  an  appre- 
ciable amount  to  be  deducted  from  the  bill. 

One  sometimes  hears  the  assertion  made  that  a 
physician  should  have  a  like  fee  for  all,  regardless  of 
the  financial  position  of  his  patients.  I  believe  that 
some  so-called  judges  have  so  ruled  from  the  bench, 
without  perceiving  the  manifest  absurdity  of  such  an 
opinion.  No  two  cases  are  alike.  The  nature  and 
value  of  the  service  can  be  judged  only  by  medical 
men  —  often  only  by  him  wrho  renders  it.  The 
qualification  and  reputation  of  the  physician  or  sur- 
geon employed  must  be  taken  into  account;  the 
value  of  the  life  and  health  of  the  patient  as  well. 
But  the  very  man  who  will  insure  his  life  for  a  mil- 
lion  and  cheerfully  pay   the   insurance  companies 

173 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

thousands  each  year,  showing  what  commercial 
value  he  puts  on  it,  will  often  haggle  over  the  pay- 
ment of  a  physician's  hard-earned  bill.  He  will  in- 
sist on  having  the  highest  authority  when  alarmed 
—  having  him  at  his  own  convenience  and  bidding ; 
but  when  the  account  is  presented  he  has  forgotten 
the  urgency  of  his  need,  and  will  depreciate  the  serv- 
ices rendered,  and  cry  out  over  the  enormity  of  the 
demand  and  the  rapacity  of  the  savior  of  his  health 
and  life. 

Few  physicians  care  to  impinge  on  their  already 
sufficiently  jeopardized  nerve  force  so  as  to  allow 
themselves  to  be  drawn  into  the  courts  because  of 
such  disputes,  nor  can  they  spare  the  time  it  takes 
to  be  involved  in  litigation.  Most  of  them  are  so 
absorbed  in  the  scientific  side  of  their  calling  that 
they  can  not  give  thought  to  the  outward  exaltation 
of  their  profession.  Of  course,  the  satisfaction  de- 
rived from  good  results  obtained  by  their  skill  is 
and  ever  will  be  their  greatest  recompense.  There 
can  be  no  greater  joy  to  one  who  appreciates  life  in 
health  than  to  have  recognized  the  source  of  evil 
devastating  an  organism,  to  have  devised  means  of 
routing  the  enemy,  to  have  restored  impaired  func- 
tions to  the  pristine  wholeness.  Neither  is  the 
gratitude  of  the  convalescent,  the  pleasure  in  his 
daily  growing  strength  and  returning  appreciation 

174 


Dr.  Bernays'  Views  on  Fees 

of  the  joy  of  life,  a  mean  reward  to  the  doctor.  In 
the  case  of  the  destitute  this  spiritual  remunera- 
tion is  all  of  which  a  physician  ever  dreams.  But  it 
will  neither  buy  bread  and  butter,  nor  has  it  as  yet 
secured  the  place  the  profession  desires — "  in  the 
front  rank,  where  they  put  rich  bankers,  brewers, 
and  speculative  manufacturers  now."  So  that  the 
thinking  surgeon  or  physician  is  sure  —  when  some 
immensely  rich  man  disputes  the  justice  of  his  claim 
—  to  bitterly  note  that  men  who  scheme  to  get  the 
better  of  others,  who  transmute  into  gold  for  their 
greed  the  necessities  of  the  poor,  who  are  at  best  but 
distributors,  may  lord  it  under  our  present  system 
over  the  very  brains  who  keep  them  in  condition. 

In  a  country  such  as  ours,  where  money  is  the 
only  criterion  of  power  and  attainment,  it  is  neces- 
sary to  educate  the  public  mind  to  a  recognition  of 
the  right  to  this  emolument  on  the  part  of  the  pro- 
fession, whose  energies  are  spent  in  the  preservation 
of  the  very  basis  of  existence.  A  great  surgeon,  the 
world  knows,  is  born  —  not  made.  The  brains  and 
the  nerves  in  his  makeup  are  of  infinitely  finer  quality 
than  those  possessed  by  the  mass  of  the  human  race. 
It  takes  a  surgeon  none  the  less  years  of  intense 
application  to  train  his  inborn  faculties,  and  it  takes 
ever  afterward,  in  the  exercise  of  his  skill,  such 
devotion  and  such  self-sacrifice  as  money  has  not  the 

175 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

power  to  pay  for.  But  in  spite  of  the  spiritual  re- 
ward that  is  his,  the  honor  that  is  due  should  not  be 
withheld.  Popular  opinion  should  force  the  mere 
money  gatherer  to  adequately  pay  the  great  surgeon 
or  physician  whom  he  has  employed,  taking  into 
account  that  the  evanescent  energy  of  such  a  man  is 
the  rarest  and  most  valuable  substance  to  be  found 
on  earth. 

Compensation  on  a  sliding  scale  —  i.  e.,  propor- 
tionately higher  as  the  human  energies  involved  in 
the  work  accomplished  are  rarer,  subtler,  more  ex- 
quisitely trained  —  is  an  economic  principle  as  yet 
but  imperfectly  recognized,  but  sure  to  be  established 
by  future  generations.  My  brother  was  here  again 
pioneer  and  forerunner,  breaking  his  lance  in  the 
Duestrow  case  gallantly  and  fearlessly,  though  pre- 
maturely, for  an  idea  that  in  a  less  barbaric  age  and 
land  will  be  a  commonplace. 

As  usual,  only  a  small  proportion  of  his  colleagues 
in  the  home  city  understood.  A  number  of  them 
used  what  they  called  his  "  exorbitant  charge  "  in  the 
Duestrow  case  to  injure  him.  His  superiority  as 
diagnostician,  as  operator,  was  now  no  longer  de- 
nied ;  so  the  bugbear  of  his  charges  came  as  a  handy 
blade  with  which  to  stab  from  convenient  ambush. 
To  be  sure,  the  patients  thus  sidetracked  were  the 
real  sufferers.     Animosity  was,  after  all,  futile  as 

176 


Dr.  Bernays'  Views  on  Fees 

directed  against  him,  for  his  time  and  strength  were 
fully  taxed  by  the  cases  which  were  sent  him  from 
adjoining  and  distant  states,  as  well  as  by  that  nobler 
and  more  intelligent  part  of  the  profession  at  home 
that  did  not  allow  petty  spites  and  sordid  motives 
to  influence  its  actions. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  far  from  being  exorbitant  in 
his  demands,  he  was  always  most  considerate  of  the 
circumstances  of  his  patients.  During  the  early  part 
of  his  practice  he  was  so  frequently  deceived  and 
taken  advantage  of  by  those  who  made  a  poor  mouth 
that  during  the  last  fifteen  years  of  his  life  he  would 
have  hardly  anything  to  do  with  the  financial  end  of 
his  calling,  keeping  a  secretary  to  attend  to  business 
matters. 

His  charity  was  never-ending,  and  done  in  silence 
and  secrecy.  Of  his  myriad  benefactions  I  have 
heard  mainly  through  others,  such  as  assistants  and 
nurses  at  the  hospitals.  These  are  authority  for  the 
statement  that  countless  times  he  not  only  operated 
on  poor  patients  gratuitously,  but  paid  their  hospital 
expenses  out  of  his  own  pocket. 

A  dear  old  friend  of  his,  Dr.  Hugo  Rothstein,  re- 
cently told  me  with  much  emotion  of  an  instance  of 
my  brother's  very  great  generosity.  It  was  in  the 
eighties,  Dr.  Rothstein  said,  when  he  was  in  the 
habit  of  coming  from  Waterloo,  where  he  then  lived, 

177 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

to  St.  Louis  to  bring  patients  to  my  brother  for  oper- 
ation. On  one  occasion  he  was  invited  by  Dr.  Ber- 
nays to  go  with  him  to  see  a  case  he  was  just  about 
to  visit  for  the  first  time.  The  patient  had  been 
treated  without  success  by  two  prominent  doctors  of 
the  city.  On  examination  my  brother  and  he  found 
the  young  man  to  be  afflicted  with  a  stricture  of  the 
ileum.  The  mother  of  the  young  fellow,  on  being 
told  by  nry  brother  that  her  son  could  be  made 
entirely  well  by  an  operation,  but  that  he  must  be  at 
once  removed  to  a  hospital  and  well  cared  for  by  a 
trained  nurse,  burst  into  tears  and  said  that  what 
little  money  she  had  possessed  was  spent  in  the 
medical  treatment  her  son  had  previously  received, 
and  that  if  his  recovery  depended  on  further  outlay 
on  her  part,  he  must  die.  At  this  my  brother  took 
out  of  his  pocket  $200,  which  he  laid  on  the  table, 
directing  the  woman  to  provide  at  once  whatever 
was  necessary.  The  young  man  was  operated  on 
and  recovered  completely. 

In  some  instances  the  Doctor's  good  nature  and 
indulgence  of  his  proteges  amounted  almost  to  weak- 
ness. There  was  a  maudlin,  stricken,  and  yet  in  his 
own  way  shrewd,  creature  who  used  to  appear  in 
the  Doctor's  room  at  an  unearthly  hour  on  Sunday 
mornings,  ostensibly  to  look  over  the  Doctor's  ward- 
robe for  things  to  press,  clean,  and  repair,  but  in 

178 


Dr.  Bernays'  Viezvs  on  Fees 

reality,  as  it  appeared  to  a  long-suffering  family,  to 
talk  at  the  top  of  a  most  strident  voice  for  two  mor- 
tal hours  about  himself  and  his  chicken  farm,  which 
latter  the  Doctor,  in  addition  to  his  gratuitous  surgi- 
cal services,  had  stocked  with  game  fowl  for  this 
walking  megaphone.  Nobody  ever  found  out  why 
my  brother  put  up  with  these  boisterous  and  ill-timed 
visitations  —  whether  it  was  just  angelic  forbear- 
ance, or  whether  he  was  taking  observations  on  the 
psychical  effects  of  his  brain  surgery. 

With  reluctance  I  feel  obliged,  while  on  the  sub- 
ject of  fees,  to  note  that  the  Doctor's  self-devised 
system  of  taking  patients  only  from  the  fraternity 
was  worked  by  the  crafty,  greedy,  and  unscrupulous 
of  the  profession  to  harm  him  in  two  ways  at  the 
same  time.  Until  the  medical  profession  is  purified 
of  such  elements  it  is  not  likely,  therefore,  that  his 
example  will  find  many  imitators.  Tales  of  base 
rapacity  have  been  indignantly  told  me  more  than 
once  by  the  Doctor's  friends.  Slily  taking  advan- 
tage of  the  reputation  Dr.  Bernays  had  that  "  his 
fees  would  Croesus  break  in  two,"  these  commercial 
doctors  would  ask  him  to  name  a  fee  for  an  opera- 
tion on  a  patient  of  theirs  whose  circumstances  they 
described  as  limited.  After  prevailing  on  him  to 
make  it  very  modest,  they  would  represent  to  the 
patient  that  Dr.   Bernays'  figures  were  very  high, 

179 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

and  would  then  charge  several  times  the  amount 
arranged  with  my  brother  and  pocket  the  difference. 
In  this  manner  his  reputation  for  exorbitant  charges 
was  exaggerated,  while  the  money  so  gained  en- 
riched these  medical  filchers. 

Dr.  Bernays  never  denied  the  current  tales  about 
his  big  fees.  They  fitted  in  with  his  desire  and  pur- 
pose to  increase  the  honor  and  recognition  of  medi- 
cal service.  Abroad,  where  orders,  decorations,  and 
titles  are  bestowed,  and  where  men  are  looked  up  to 
and  esteemed  aside  from  their  financial  standing, 
they  have  the  flattering,  if  somewhat  fatuous,  unc- 
tion of  such  intangible  compensation  to  lay  to  their 
souls. 

Items  like  the  two  cited  below  appeared  from  time 
to  time  in  various  publications.  The  Doctor  never 
knew  and  never  cared  who  gave  them  to  the  report- 
ers—  whether  they  were  inspired  by  friends  or  by 
foes,  whether  they  were  dreams  of  some  young,  am- 
bitious scribe,  or  whether  one  of  his  more  callow  as- 
sistants liked  to  revel  in  the  thoughts  of  the  riches 
"  the  chief,"  an  he  would,  might  lay  up.  Thus 
rumor  transformed  the  legend  even  then  forming 
about  him. 

The  skilled  surgeon  in  a  large  community  may  have  little 
time  to  spare  from  his  arduous  and  rather  grewsome  labors, 
but  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  he  is  well  paid  for  them,  and 

1 80 


Dr.  Bernays'  Views  on  Fees 

he  stands  a  better  chance  of  amassing  a  competency  much 
earlier  in  life  than  the  members  of  almost  any  other  profession. 
I  am  prompted  to  this  remark  by  an  incident  related  to  me 
by  the  friend  of  a  surgeon  whose  name  is  as  familiar  to  the 
people  as  that  of  any  of  the  present  aspirants  to  the  mayoralty. 
This  surgeon  was  in  his  office  one  evening  last  week  when 
he  received  a  telephone  message  to  come  at  once  to  the  resi- 
dence of  a  well-known  family  in  the  West  End.  He  got  into 
his  carriage  with  his  implements,  and  inside  of  twenty  minutes 
he  had  performed  an  operation  for  that  particularly  painful 
affliction,  intussusception  of  the  bowels,  on  a  person  well 
known  in  society.  It  took  him  practically  no  time  to  do  the 
work.  When  he  got  to  his  office  after  the  operation,  he  made 
out  his  bill  and  mailed  it.  The  mail  next  morning  brought 
him  a  check  in  response  to  his  bill.  The  check  was  for  $1,500. 
Granting  that  the  operation  occupied  twenty  minutes,  the 
surgeon  estimated  the  value  of  his  time  at  just  $75  per  min- 
ute. I  doubt  if  there  is  another  man  in  the  city  who  can 
ask  and  receive  for  his  time  any  such  amount.  The  surgeon 
in  question,  I  may  say,  however,  is  so  constituted  that  his 
capacity  for  expenditure  is  fully  equal,  if  not  superior,  to  his 
earning  capacity,  and  that  he  would  not  have  much  more  at 
the  end  of  the  year  if  he  charged  twice  as  much  for  his  time, 
or  very  much  less  if  he  charged  only  half  as  much.  From 
this  I  think  it  will  not  be  very  difficult  for  readers  to  name 
the  professional  gentleman  to  whom  I  refer. 

A  Wealthy  Doctor's  Plan  —  He  Never  Sends  His  Patients 
a  Bill,  but  He  Gets  His  Money  Nevertheless. 

The  policy  mapped  out  and  pursued  by  physicians  to  build 
up  a  practice  is  in  some  instances  peculiar.  A  well-known 
and  able  St.  Louis  surgeon  was  speaking  the  other  night  ot 
Dr.  A.  C.  Bernays.  According  to  him,  Bernays  has  a  system 
which,  though  seemingly  void  of  diplomacy,  is,  au  contraire, 
teeming  with  it. 

l8l 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

"  Bernays,"  he  said,  "  keeps  practically  no  books.  He  never 
presents  a  bill.  I  don't  believe  he  ever  presented  a  bill  in 
his  life.  He  is  perfectly  willing  to  let  you  come  and  settle 
at  your  will.  If  you  don't  settle,  he  won't  bother  you.  Still, 
his  bad  bills  amount  to  a  very  small  percentage.  He  argues 
that  he  is  working  for  a  reputation  rather  than  for  money, 
and  that  the  nonpresentation  of  a  bill  is  calculated  to  make 
people  have  faith  in  his  prosperity,  of  which  Bernays  has  a 
large  share." 

His  immoderate  use  of  the  knife  was  another  fic- 
tion and  ghost  with  which  to  scare  the  populace. 
He  did,  of  course,  in  desperate  cases,  regardless  of 
the  possibly  impending  onus  of  writing  a  death  cer- 
tificate, where  the  patient  had  but  the  one  forlorn 
chance  of  his  life,  dare  that  before  which  others 
flinched,  and  often,  indeed,  did  he  thus  "  snatch  a 
prize  from  death."  Conversely,  however,  in  many 
instances  where  an  operation  was  desired,  recom- 
mended, and  demanded  by  other  physicians,  did  he 
advise  against  it,  prescribe  rest  and  a  regime,  and 
persuade  the  sufferer  rather  to  bear  a  modicum  of 
discomfort  than  call  into  action  the  scalpel.  He 
faithfully  tested  the  modes  of  operations  invented 
by  others  if  they  appealed  to  him  as  rational  and 
promising,  but,  if  results  were  not  favorable,  he  as 
unhesitatingly  renounced  them  as  he  would  a  method 
of  his  own  that  had  proved  unsatisfactory.  Like- 
wise, where  other  surgeons  had  advised  bloody  and 
terrible  invasions  and  devastations  of  the  organism, 

182 


Dr.  Ber nays'  Views  on  Fees 

he  frequently  cured  by  a  slight  and  not  dangerous 
use  of  the  surgical  apparatus.  I  am  not,  of  course, 
at  liberty  to  name  those  who  were  thus  spared  a 
most  unnecessary  shock  and  injury  to  their  anatomy, 
advised  by  other  surgeons,  nor  to  indicate  the  advis- 
ers whose  blunders  were  thus  shielded.  Many  live, 
however,  who  know  of  such  occurrences  and  who 
can  corroborate  these  statements. 


183 


CHAPTER  XII 

DR.  BERNAYS  A  TEACHER 
Ideas  strangle  statutes. —  Wendell  Phillips. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  say  from  which  of  his  apti- 
tudes and  activities  Dr.  Bernays  derived  most  satis- 
faction —  from  his  researches  begun  in  his  student 
days  in  Germany,  from  his  power  of  recognizing 
the  source  of  disease,  from  his  ability  to  restore 
health,  from  the  artistic  finish  and  the  originality  of 
his  methods  in  his  operations,  or  from  the  magnet- 
ism he  exercised  with  such  joy  in  instructing  others 
in  his  beloved  profession. 

His  pupil,  Dr.  Willard  Bartlett  —  so  frequently 
quoted  in  these  pages  because  of  his  aptitude  for  ex- 
pression—  speaking  of  my  brother's  natural  equip- 
ment for  his  position  in  life,  and  especially  his 
qualifications  to  teach,  said : 

He  had  more  gifts  of  various  kinds  than  any  other  man 
I  ever  knew.  He  ranked  high  as  investigator,  operator,  and 
teacher.  While  in  my  eyes  his  greatest  merit  lay  in  his  ability 
as  an  operator,  in  his  being  able  to  do  things  successfully 
which  others  refused  to  attempt,  he  was  also  a  great  teacher. 

184 


Dr.  Bernays  a  Teacher 

The  chief  value  of  his  teaching  lay  in  his  being  able  to 
create  enthusiasm  in  his  students,  and  especially  in  those  who 
were  fortunate  enough  to  become  his  assistants.  He  had 
inborn  manual  dexterity  of  the  highest  order,  and  this, 
with  the  lightninglike  power  to  see  and  perceive,  made  his 
work  so  brilliant  and  so  successful  that  the  onlooker  felt  he 
was  in  the  presence  of  a  master.  His  intellectual  capacities, 
though  so  varied,  seemed  to  be  exactly  balanced. 

He  was  in  the  habit  of  interjecting  striking  aphoristic  say- 
ings into  the  body  of  his  discourse  when  lecturing  or  demon- 
strating. At  the  moment  I  recall  the  following  of  such  epi- 
grams :  "  The  value  of  seeing  others  operate  consists  not 
wholly  in  what  one  learns  how  to  do,  but  largely  in  seeing  what 
not  to  do."  "  The  greatest  bravery  I  know  of  is  that  of  a 
physician  who,  aware  that  he  is  dying,  faces  the  continued  de- 
cline without  flinching.  A  general  in  battle,  confronting  the 
cannon,  is  conscious  of  winning  glory  by  his  self-command  — 
momentary  exultation  carries  him  to  heroism,  but  the  sus- 
tained courage  of  the  doomed  physician  is  much  greater." 

In  his  lectures  he  was  not  always  consistent.  In  fact  —  and 
I  believe  this  to  be  a  mark  of  genius  —  he  was  consistent 
mainly  in  not  being  afraid  to  be  inconsistent  when  he  felt  it 
incumbent  on  him  to  be  so.  He  was  utterly  careless  as  to  the 
personal  deductions  his  listeners  might  make.  On  one  occa- 
sion he  had  the  laughers  against  him  when  he  impetuously 
declared  he  would  not  let  a  man  over  forty  operate  on  him. 
A  student  at  once  asked  him  how  old  he  was,  and  he  was 
obliged  to  confess  to  thirty-nine. 

When  Dr.  Bernays  lectured,  I  have  been  often 
told,  no  other  professor  at  Marion  Sims  College 
could  get  an  adequate  audience.  The  students 
seemed  as  if  mesmerized,  and  habitually  greeted  him 
with  deafening  applause  when  he  entered  the  lecture- 

185 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

room.     This  pleased  him  greatly.     He  was  always 
frankly  proud  and  delighted  to  be  popular. 

Since  naturally  I  never  had  the  privilege  of  com- 
ing under  the  instruction  of  my  brother  in  the  capac- 
ity of  a  medical  student,  and  in  order  to  be  able  to 
throw  as  much  light  as  possible  on  this  side  of  his 
activity,  I  asked  the  cooperation  of  several  men 
who  had  the  opportunity  I  lacked.  Their  responses 
indicated  not  only  willingness,  but  eagerness,  to  aid 
me,  and  show  that  his  soul  goes  marching  on  in  the 
one  sense  in  which  he  understood  that  phrase  and 
would  have  had  it  applied  to  himself.  From  these 
letters  I  selected  the  one  which  to  me  seemed  the 
most  succinct  and  logical,  that  of  Dr.  G.  G.  Cottam, 
to  whom  I  am  indebted  also  for  several  important 
suggestions  for  this  sketch  of  my  brother's  life,  as 
well  as  for  the  valuable  bibliography  which  will  be 
found  at  the  end  of  this  volume. 

Dr.  Bernays  as  a  lecturer  was  sni  generis.  He  used  neither 
the  craft  of  the  actor  nor  the  art  of  the  orator,  but  presented 
the  plain,  unadorned  truth,  without  affectation,  and  so  con- 
vincingly that  to  hear  him  was  to  believe  him.  In  the  early 
nineties,  when  I  first  heard  him,  he  was  lecturing  on  patho- 
logical anatomy;  later,  clinical  surgery  was  added,  and  his 
fourfold  qualification  as  embryologist,  anatomist,  pathologist, 
and  surgeon,  of  each  of  which  he  was  a  master,  enabled  him 
to  deal  with  his  subject  in  a  manner  wholly  impossible  for 
one  lacking  in  any  one  of  those  four  closely  connected 
branches.     It  appeared  to  be  his  delight  to  digress  from  one  to 

1 86 


Dr.  Bernays  a  Teacher 

the  other  as  seemed  necessary  to  emphasize  his  points,  and 
he  apparently  preferred  subjects  which  would  admit  of  this 
versatile  treatment.  Developmental  defects,  especially,  lent 
themselves  in  this  manner,  and  he  would  begin  by  tracing 
the  embryological  stages,  showing  the  period  at  which  arrest 
would  result  in  the  particular  defect  under  consideration; 
then  he  would  bring  out  the  normal  anatomy  of  the  fully  de- 
veloped subject,  then  the  pathological  sequence  of  the  hiatus, 
and  finally  the  crowning  glory  of  the  surgical  correction.  He 
fairly  reveled  in  anything  like  this,  and  his  enthusiasm  was 
contagious,  for  his  students  reveled  with  him.  We  knew  that 
he  was  in  earnest,  and  we  hung  on  every  syllable.  No  one, 
not  even  the  dilettantes  and  the  "  floaters,"  ever  deliberately 
"  cut  "  his  lectures. 

He  used  to  come  to  the  college  a  few  minutes  before  his 
lecture  hour  began,  and  spend  them  in  the  little  faculty-room 
behind  the  amphitheater,  quietly  looking  over  his  "  Gegen- 
baur  "  or  "  Hyrtl."  Some  of  us  wondered  why,  with  all  his 
tremendous  store  of  knowledge  ready  for  use,  he  found  it 
necessary  to  do  this.  We  determined  to  find  out,  and  we  did 
so.  Opportunity  presented  itself  in  the  shape  of  a  rare 
anomaly  in  the  dissecting  room,  and  the  next  time  he  came  to 
lecture  we  waylaid  him  and  showed  him  the  curiosity.  Need- 
less to  say,  he  found  no  time  to  study  that  day;  what  was  still 
more  to  the  point,  he  lectured,  without  preparation,  on  that 
very  anomaly  we  had  just  shown  him.  No  one  thereafter 
imagined  for  a  moment  that  he  had  "  read  up "  before  his 
lectures ;  we  realized  well  enough  that  all  he  was  doing  with 
the  books  was  merely  seeking  inspiration  for  a  topic.  We 
might  have  known  it  before,  for  he  never  followed  any  regular 
order  in  his  lectures.  No  rule  of  thumb  or  fixed  schedules  for 
him!  Just  as  he  chose  his  lecture  subjects  promiscuously  to 
avoid  anything  approaching  the  stereotyped,  he  abhorred  the 
thought  of  a  student  acquiring  anatomy  by  mere  memory 
committal  of  group  after  group  of  structures.     He  wanted  his 

187 


Augustus  Charles  Bemays 

students  to  get  an  accurate  composite  picture  of  the  various 
parts ;  whether  they  knew  the  names  in  exact  order  he  cared 
not,  but  when  he  indicated  a  certain  nerve  or  artery,  or  what 
not,  he  expected  a  student  to  be  able  to  identify  it,  or,  if  he 
mentioned  a  certain  structure,  he  expected  the  student  to  be 
able  to  find  it.  Mere  book  knowledge  had  no  standing  with 
him.  "Do  you  know  that,  or  have  you  just  read  it  some- 
where ? "  was  a  favorite  question  of  his,  always  evoked  by 
imperfectly  grounded  deductions  on  the  part  of  students.  His 
artistic  talent  was  a  helpful  adjunct  to  his  teaching.  Points 
difficult  of  verbal  description  were  promptly  elucidated  by  a 
few  strokes  of  the  chalk  or  pencil. 

Above  all  things,  he  was  original.  Students  quickly  recog- 
nize when  a  lecturer  is  following  a  certain  author  too  closely, 
and  are  equally  quick  to  condemn  this  parrotlike  method. 
Per  contra,  they  readily  appreciate  a  man  who  offers  them 
mental  pabulum  of  his  own  creation,  and  in  this  Dr.  Bernays 
excelled.  He  never  said  anything  simply  because  some  other 
man  had  done  so,  he  never  even  copied  a  diagram  from  a 
book,  he  never  used  notes. 

In  short,  then,  the  characteristics  of  Dr.  Bernays  as  •  a 
teacher  which  would  seem  to  me  to  account  for  his  remarkable 
hold  on  his  students'  esteem  and  attention  were,  first,  his  abso- 
lute mastery  of  four  correlated  branches ;  second,  his  original- 
ity; third,  his  enthusiastic  earnestness;  fourth,  his  lucidity; 
fifth,  his  absence  of  affectation ;  and  lastly,  his  evident  sym- 
pathy with  and  desire  to  help  those  whom  he  believed  to  be 
earnest  seekers. 

My  brother  worked,  as  had  his  father  before  him, 
for  more  stringent  preparatory  requirements,  better 
equipment  for  purposes  of  research,  longer  and  bet- 
ter graded  courses  in  the  medical  colleges  of  our 
country;  but  at  the  time  of  his  death  there  was 

1 88 


Dr.  Bernays  a  Teacher 

not  in  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  land  more  than 
the  one  solitary  medical  school  —  Johns  Hopkins, 
of  Baltimore  —  that  approximated  his  ideals.  He 
himself  was  obliged  to  draw  his  material  for  future 
surgeons  largely  from  uncouth  and  uncultured 
southwestern  country  towns,  and  much  of  it  was,  in 
the  fullest  sense  of  the  word,  "  raw."  It  is  all  the 
more  remarkable  that  so  many  of  his  pupils  be- 
came proficient,  so  that  long  before  his  death  the 
Bernays  school  —  by  which  name  is  designated  the 
large  contingent  of  younger  surgeons  who  owed 
their  training  chiefly  to  him  —  had  made  a  distinct 
place  for  itself  in  the  estimation  of  the  profession. 
Some  of  these  men  of  his  training  are  in  the  van- 
guard of  surgery  in  St.  Louis  —  others  are  leaders 
in  other  sections  of  our  broad  land.  To  be  sure, 
my  brother  always  maintained  that  the  pick  of  his 
young  men,  his  assistants,  came  from  families  of 
some  culture ;  that  they  had  had  advantages  of  more 
than  a  superficial  order  before  they  entered  medical 
college,  although  in  many  cases  this  preliminary 
training  was  due  merely  to  the  general  atmosphere  of 
the  homes  from  which  they  sprang,  supplemented  by 
reading  and  studying  on  their  own  account.  As  he 
grew  older  he  grew  more  impatient  of  the  elements 
which  attempted  to  push  their  way  into  the  medical 
profession  with  an  eye  only  to  commercial  profit  — 

189 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

the  desire  to  make  a  good  living  without  prepared- 
ness, without  vocation,  without  the  indispensable 
qualities  of  energy,  self-reliance,  industry. 

In  a  letter  written  about  a  year  before  he  died, 
which  the  misguided  youth  to  whom  it  was  ad- 
dressed sent  back,  with  a  whining  remark  affixed, 
he  thus  gives  voice  to  his  disgust  with  would-be  in- 
truders on  sacred  territory. 

St.  Louis,  May  3,  1906. 
My  Dear  Sir: 

I  do  not  think  you  ought  to  study  medicine.  No  one  should 
enter  the  profession  who  has  not  enjoyed  a  tip-top  early  train- 
ing in  science  and  literature  (old  and  modern  languages). 
Uneducated  men  are  always  a  disgrace  to  the  profession,  and 
begging  is  a  very  bad  beginning.  Go  to  preaching;  no  educa- 
tion whatever  and  but  very  little  brains  or  money  are  re- 
quired to  make  a  preacher.  The  world  is  full  of  fools  who 
will  go  to  hear  preaching. 

Sincerely, 

A.  C.  Bernays. 

Nothing  could  better  epitomize  one  phase  of  my 
brother's  character  than  the  bluntness  with  which  he 
here  banishes  the  pauper  in  intellect  and  backbone 
from  his  paradises  and  consigns  him  to  the  hunting- 
grounds  of  the  authoritative,  the  revealed,  the  illog- 
ical. He  was  as  sweeping  and  uncompromising  as 
Voltaire,  Paine,  or  Ingersoll  in  his  contempt  for 
what  he  believed  fostered  ignorance.  Some  one  has 
well  said  that  "  truth  is  by  its  very  nature  intoler- 

190 


Dr.  Bernays  a  Teacher 

ant,  exclusive,  for  every  truth  is  the  denial  of  its 
opposing  error."  Never  accustomed  to  mincing  his 
words,  the  Doctor  is  indeed  well  described  —  in  re- 
gard to  his  eagerness  to  testify  for  pure  science  by 
trampling  on  whatever  seemed  to  be  an  obstacle  to 
its  complete  triumph  —  by  the  words  of  that  clever 
analyst  of  human  nature,  W.  M.  Reedy,  who  re- 
curred, in  his  sketches  of  prominent  men  which  he 
published  in  the  Mirror,  again  and  again  to  the  com- 
plex and  picturesque  personality  of  A.  C.  Bernays. 
"  He  was  not  satisfied,"  Reedy  says,  "  with  simple 
dissent.  He  was  always  active  and  aggressive  in 
his  assault  on  established  things,  a  rampant  icono- 
clast, tempered  with  a  humorous  cynicism  that  is 
perhaps  as  aggravating  as  would  be  intemperate  de- 
nunciation." 

In  his  lectures  his  agnosticism  was,  of  course, 
bound  at  times  to  be  voiced  with  utmost  candor, 
and  to  some  of  his  pupils,  and  to  friends  whom 
association  had  brought  into  contact  with  men  and 
women  who  accepted  and  practiced  Christianity  at 
its  highest,  this  side  of  his  nature  remained  enig- 
matic and  disturbing.  These  genuine  Christians, 
who  sincerely  loved  him  for  the  great  good  they  saw 
him  daily  and  hourly  accomplish,  grieved  at  this  atti- 
tude of  his  and  secretly  prayed  for  him.  One  of  his 
pupils  remarked  that  his  dislike  of  creeds  seemed 

191 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

to  be  based  on  his  conclusion  that  they  were  all 
hypocritical.  He  had  heard  him  say  that  the  only 
church  for  which  he  had  any  respect  was  the  Cath- 
olic, in  which  there  was  at  least  an  intellectual  aris- 
tocracy that  frankly  ruled  the  mob. 

I  give  a  few  of  my  brother's  convictions  on  the 
general  objects  and  methods  of  education  as,  often 
repeated,  they  have  impressed  themselves  on  my 
memory.  For  mere  traditions  he  had  little  rever- 
ence. The  blind  worship  of  the  historic  fetish,  so 
often  the  means  of  retarding  progress,  he  disliked 
and  disapproved.  His  face  was  set  forward,  his 
mind  and  imagination  moved  onward.  The  cut 
and  dried,  the  mechanical,  he  loathed. 

Much  as  he  admired  Germany  in  its  recent  ac- 
complishment, much  as  he  loved  the  spirit  of  her 
universities,  on  some  of  her  elementary  education 
he  looked  with  pitying  eye.  Inasmuch  as  it  often 
stifles  the  wonder  impulse  of  the  child  under  a  mass 
of  erudition;  inasmuch  as  it  fails  to  educate  the 
senses  —  goes  so  far  as  to  sometimes  injure  these 
indispensable  servants  of  the  mind  by  overwork; 
inasmuch  as  it  frequently  leaves  awkward  and  un- 
trained, by  failure  to  trust  and  try,  the  natural  pow- 
ers of  the  child,  he  objected  to  importing  German 
methods  unsifted  and  unsorted  into  our  educational 
system.     He  often  pointed  out  that  European  chil- 

192 


Dr.  Bernays  a  Teacher 

dren  are  taught  by  masters  according  to  set,  unalter- 
able rules  much  of  what  Americans  acquire  of  them- 
selves. "  Swimming,  riding  horseback,  shooting, 
we  learn  spontaneously  —  frequently  in  direct  diso- 
bedience to  our  parents'  commands;  we  learn  them 
not  by  rule  and  rote,  but  in  the  harder  school  of 
experience,  where  resourcefulness,  caution,  self- 
command,  and  other  necessary  qualities  are  taxed 
at  the  same  time,"  he  was  in  the  habit  of  saying. 

He  believed  that  in  a  contest  of  power  between 
Germans  and  Americans,  the  latter  would  win  in  the 
end,  though  the  discipline,  the  training  to  an  obe- 
dience that  moves  them  as  one  man,  was  likely  to 
obtain  initial  successes  for  the  Germans.  The  su- 
periority of  the  American,  he  declared,  lay  in  quick- 
ness of  perception,  in  individual  self-reliance,  in 
the  adaptability  to  unlooked-for  circumstances,  the 
readiness  to  invent  and  put  into  practice  devices  as 
efficient  as  unexpected  and  novel. 

The  modern  technical  and  vocational  schools,  as 
evolved  by  the  Germans,  he  heartily  approved  of, 
and  desired  the  introduction  of  something  similar  in 
the  United  States.  The  training  of  the  hand  must 
occur  simultaneously  with  the  education  of  the  eye. 
He  believed  with  Goethe  that  reflection  alone  can 
not  make  a  man  know  his  duty  and  his  fitness. 
Only  action  will  secure  acquaintance  with  self,  and 

193 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

will  reveal  the  duty  each  day  demands.  Thought 
and  action  as  expressed  in  science  and  art  should 
dovetail.  The  aim  of  education  should,  therefore, 
be  to  discover  the  highest  activities  for  which  each 
individual  is  fitted,  and  train  him  in  the  superior 
methods  of  exercising  such  activity,  whether  it  be  a 
craft,  an  art,  a  trade,  or  a  profession. 

Ignorance  of  what  has  been  accomplished  before 
acts  as  a  waste  of  power.  The  point  of  departure 
from  which  to  range  afield  into  new  exploit  should 
be  known,  so  as  to  save  time  and  energy  that  is  else 
foolishly  expended  in  going  over  ground  already 
prepared  as  if  it  were  untilled.  Here  the  history- 
loving  mind  of  Europe  scores.  Inventions  abroad 
are  patented  but  once.  Priority  of  thought  is  easily 
established,  except  in  rare  cases. 

On  the  constant  exercise  and  the  development  of 
the  reasoning  power,  its  liberation  from  prejudice, 
my  brother  laid  the  greatest  stress.  To  do  a  thing 
well  was  something,  but,  unless  the  processes  of  the 
mind  could  be  noted,  unless  conclusions  could  be 
drawn  from  the  practice  of  a  craft  or  a  profession 
which  would  stimulate  and  produce  thought  and 
activity  in  others,  there  was  something  lacking. 
This  continuity  in  the  striving  for  perfection,  the 
storing  and  handing  down  of  knowledge,  this  pass- 
ing of  the  torch  of  science  from  man  to  man,  each 

194 


Dr.  Bernays  a  Teacher 

one  to  be  eager  to  trim  it  and  make  its  flame  burn 
brighter,  was  his  greatest  concern. 

No  one  knew  better  than  he  that  for  the  genius 
there  is  no  narrowing  down  to  methods  of  the 
schools.  The  Leonardos,  the  Goethes,  express 
themselves  in  new  ways  and  find  their  own  royal 
road  to  wisdom,  which  they  travel  at  their  own  pace. 
To  nature  they  go  invariably,  search  her  manu- 
scripts —  cryptic  to  others  —  read  them,  translate 
them,  make  them  productive,  beautiful,  prophetic 
for  the  race. 

It  is  the  chief  office  of  education  to  point  out 
the  way  of  usefulness  to  the  average  being.  Here 
Europe  as  well  as  America  offends  against  the  spirit 
of  wisdom.  Confusion  results  instead  of  clarifica- 
tion by  offering,  as  we  do,  too  many  stimuli  to  the 
groping  immature  mind.  They  act  for  the  most 
part  as  dissipations,  as  temptations  to  a  sterile  curi- 
osity or  vanity.  The  power  of  concentration  is 
sacrificed  to  the  foolish  fear  that  a  talent  be  over- 
looked. In  Europe  there  is  the  peril  of  pedantry 
and  stultification  by  creating  in  the  youthful  mind 
a  glut  and  excess  of  knowledge  based  on  authority. 
This  stunts  and  stifles  self-expression. 

Only  wise  masters,  who  have  the  intuition,  the 
will,  the  patience  to  trace  individual  needs,  and 
further  them,  can  pick  the  way  between  the  snags 

195 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

and  difficulties  that  beset  the  path  of  the  educator. 
Therefore  it  should  be  borne  in  on  a  misguided 
generation  that  the  teacher's  mission  is  the  most 
important,  the  most  worthy  of  reverence.  Men  and 
women  possessing  the  special  equipment  needed  by 
the  teacher,  in  the  high  sense  of  the  word,  are  rare. 
Their  price  should  be  "  above  rubies." 

One  of  the  grudges  held  against  my  brother  by 
some  of  the  commercially  minded  was  that  at  times 
he  would  launch  forth  in  a  lecture  against  the  use 
of  drugs  to  the  prescribing  of  which  the  uninspired 
physician  is  only  a  trifle  less  addicted  than  the  out- 
right quack,  who  "pours  drugs  out  of  bottles  of 
which  he  knows  little  into  bodies  of  which  he  knows 
nothing."  Of  course  to  such  as  made  the  nauseous, 
and  they  cared  not  whether  noxious,  nostrums  their 
chief  means  of  income,  this  propaganda  of  my 
brother  was  most  inconvenient. 

He  used  to  say  laughingly  that  in  some  ways  he 
was  a  forerunner  of  "  Mother  Eddy  "  and  her  activ- 
ity as  far  as  she  encouraged  optimism,  trust  in  the 
healing  power  of  nature,  and  discouraged  the  indis- 
criminate and  profuse  use  of  drugs.  He  knew  the 
tremendous  force  of  suggestion,  and  consciously 
and  unconsciously  drew  on  his  optimistic  tempera- 
ment to  inspire  and  fan  to  new  life  in  his  patients 
the  will,  the  confident  belief  in  the  restoration  to 

196 


Dr.  Bernays  a  Teacher 

health.  For  this  reason  his  mere  presence  acted 
like  magic  on  his  patients,  and  he  could  well  banish 
from  his  pharmacopeia  all  but  Napoleon's  three 
chief  principles  of  health  —  water,  air,  and  cleanli- 
ness —  to  which  he  added  light  as  a  fourth. 

It  goes  without  saying  that  in  his  lectures  and 
clinical  demonstrations  and  in  his  writings  he  never 
relaxed  his  insistence  on  asepsis.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  the  last  article  he  wrote,  the  proof  of  which  I 
corrected  after  his  death  according  to  his  manu- 
script, was  one  on  asepsis  for  the  new  medical  ency- 
clopedia then  in  preparation  by  the  United  Editors5 
Association  of  New  York. 

I  close  this  chapter  with  a  reprint  of  my  broth- 
er's farewell  remarks  to  the  graduation  class  of 
1896  of  the  Marion  Sims  College.  It  embodies,  in 
a  sort  of  brief  third  testament,  the  tenets  of  a  code 
of  morality  of  his  own. 

Farewell  Remarks  to  the  Class  of  '96  of  the  Marion  Sims 
College  of  Medicine,  Delivered  at  the  Annual  Ban- 
quet to  the  Alumni  at  the  St.  Nicholas  Hotel,  St. 
Louis,  Mo.,  April  2,  1896,  by  Professor  A.  C.  Bernays. 

Gentlemen: 

Permit  me  to  read  you  the  following  quotations  and 
thoughts  that  I  have  selected  for  you : 

Remember  that  having  fine  sentiments  is  a  poor  substitute 
for  being  a  man. 

Remember  that  "  dignity  is  no  more  the  sign  of  wisdom 

197 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

than  a  paper  collar  is  of  a  shirt."  All  quacks  wear  silk  high 
hats  and  make  a  show  of  dignity.  The  scientific  attainments  of 
doctors  are  almost  exactly  in  the  inverse  ratio  to  their  show 
of  dignity  and  pose.  Ignorance  is  most  easily  hidden  under 
the  cloak  of  dignity  and  by  keeping  a  close  mouth. 

Remember  to  judge  people  by  what  they  do,  not  by  their 
sentiments  —  especially  yourself. 

Remember  that  in  order  to  freely  and  cheerfully  recognize 
merit  in  others,  you  must  be  worthy  and  meritorious  yourself. 

Remember  that  you  may  have  your  best  friends  among 
those  who  disagree  with  you.  Men  can  disagree  with  their 
heads  and  agree  in  their  hearts. 

Remember  that  prejudice  hurts  the  one  who  cherishes  it 
much  more  than  the  one  against  whom  it  is  aimed. 

Remember  that  it  makes  no  difference  at  all  what  a  man 
believes,  but  it  makes  a  great  deal  of  difference  what  he  knows. 

Remember  that  the  way  to  conquer  prejudice  is  to  live  it 
down.  Do  not  discuss  it  with  others,  waste  no  thought  on  it 
yourself. 

Remember  that  it  is  brave  to  be  in  the  minority.  That  is 
where  the  strong  usually  are.  Weak  natures  can  not  stand 
alone,  but  must  lean  on  the  majority. 

Remember  that  it  is  the  nature  of  science  to  ignore  author- 
ity, to  look  away  from  it,  to  pursue  its  own  course  in  order 
that  it  may  arrive  at  the  highest  and  most  important  truths 
without  prejudice. 

In  your  lives  follow  nothing  but  the  beacon  light  of  reason. 
It  will  lead  you  to  the  truth. 

Remember  that  schools  are  the  churches,  universities  the 
cathedrals,  where  the  only  true  religion  can  be  found,  and 
that  the  only  possible  savior  of  the  human  race  is  science. 

Remember  that  after  tonight  you  must  give  up  text  books 
in  order  to  study  nature.  The  only  way  in  which  you  will 
be  able  to  advance  the  interests  of  our  profession  will  be  by 
adding  to  our  knowledge ;  the  only  way  in  which  you  will  be 

198 


Dr.  Bernays  a  Teacher 

able  to  do  that  will  be  by  using  your  trained  senses  in  observ- 
ing facts  and  by  recording  your  observations  and  reflections 
in  a  scientific  medical  journal. 

Finally,  gentlemen,  remember  "  there  is  no  darkness  but 
ignorance,"  and  remember  in  your  toilsome  professional  career 
to  shed  as  much  light  along  your  course  as  you  may  be  able 
to  create  or  to  reflect.  Remember  my  oft-repeated  command- 
ment: Scientific  truths  must  be  freely  given  away;  they  are 
priceless,  and  one  who  trades  in  them  is  unworthy  of  the 
ware.  Give  them  to  others  just  as  you  have  received  them 
from  me  at  this  college  from  which  you  have  graduated  to- 
night. I  hope  that  the  wants  of  your  bodies  and  the  hunger 
of  your  minds  may  be  satisfied,  so  that  you  will  be  happy 
enough  to  make  others  happy. 


199 


CHAPTER  XIII 

DR.  BERNAYS  ON  THE  TURF 

My  tastes  are  aristocratic,  my  actions  democratic. —  Victor 
Hugo. 

If  a  man  empties  his  purse  into  his  head,  no  one  can  take 
it  from  him. —  Benjamin  Franklin. 

If  it  is  a  vice  to  love  what  my  brother  exalted  by 
the  resounding  phrase,  "  the  sport  of  kings,"  then  he 
undeniably  had  that  vice.  And  there's  nothing  for 
it  but  to  quote  once  more  the  familiar  passage  from 
his  good  old  colleague,  O.  W.  Holmes :  "  People 
that  do  not  laugh  or  cry,  or  take  more  of  anything 
than  is  good  for  them,  or  use  anything  but  dictionary 
words,  are  admirable  subjects  for  biographies.  But 
we  don't  care  most  for  those  flat-pattern  flowers  that 
press  best  in  a  herbarium."  Agreed,  except  as  to  the 
"  admirable  subjects  for  biographies."  Not  even  in 
Sunday-school  biographies,  if  the  truth  were  told,  is 
the  stainless  hero  really  preferred.  In  fact,  where 
can  more  vigorous  and  picturesque  sinning  be  found 
than  in  the  favorite  hunting-grounds  of  Sunday- 
school     biographies  —  the     Old     Testament  ?     Not 

200 


Dr.  Bernays  on  the  Turf 

even  that  trick  of  Jacob's,  whereby  he  got  the  better 
of  old  Laban  on  lambs,  nor  Joseph's  cute  corner  in 
Egyptian  wheat,  is  severely  censured  there,  though 
usually  some  disapproval  is  expressed  of  Solomon's 
generous  allowance  in  wives  and  King  David's 
double  betrayal  of  his  servant  Uriah. 

A  stainless  hero  is  a  colorless  hero.  A  biogra- 
pher who  does  not  appreciate  the  shadow  as  a  means 
to  bring  out  the  lights  in  his  portrayal  has  neither 
the  temperament  of  the  artist  nor  yet  the  spirit  of 
the  warrior  arming  for  the  defense  of  that  which  he 
loves  and  reveres.  A  biography  which,  moreover, 
leaves  out  the  faults,  the  vices,  the  limitations  of  its 
subject,  is  a  lie  that  has  no  excuse  for  existence. 
Therefore,  though  it  was  not  in  me  —  which  was 
neither  a  merit  nor  yet  a  fault  of  mine  —  to  share 
and  condone  the  Doctor's  predilection  for  horse-flesh 
during  his  lifetime,  I  feel  in  duty  bound  here  to 
handle  this  darling  vice  of  his  in  the  open  —  even 
as  he  would  have  had  me  treat  it. 

Inherent  in  him,  as  it  is  in  many  men,  was  the 
gambling  spirit;  the  strong  desire  to  pit  his  judg- 
ment against  that  of  others,  and,  backing  it  with  that 
symbol  of  symbols  of  power  —  money  —  win  more 
money.  Win  it  just  to  have  it,  as  a  symbol,  as  the 
golden  background  deemed  most  becoming  by  men 
and  women  all  over  the  world ;  win  it  to  throw  it  up 

201 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

in  the  air,  as  a  rain  of  gold,  that  it  might  fall  into 
whatever  lap  it  would;  win  it  for  the  joy  of  buying 
more  horses  to  keep  and  train;  to  win  again,  and 
so  on  in  an  endless  chain.  The  psychology  of  the 
gambler!  Is  it  not  the  psychology  of  those  the 
multitude  acclaims  as  the  cleverer,  the  more  opti- 
mistic, the  courageous,  the  generous  among  its  fel- 
low-men ? 

Aside  from  this  neither  fine  nor  laudable,  but 
entirely  human  and  most  entirely  American,  desire 
to  win  money,  the  Doctor  was  fond  of  the  sport 
from  the  love  of  the  horse.  Though  he  loved  all 
live  creatures,  the  horse  was  his  favorite  animal. 
It  had  the  physical  qualities  he  most  admired  — 
swiftness,  sureness,  beauty  of  line  —  and  he  saw 
in  it  a  capacity  for  development  of  these  physical 
traits,  and  even  of  such  the  humans  call  moral  and 
intellectual  —  judgment,  flair,  ambition. 

Furthermore,  there  was  the  mystery  of  the  thing; 
for  there  lingered  in  him  the  desire  of  the  moth  for 
the  flame,  the  tantalizing  urge  to  penetrate  and 
vanquish  "the  unknowable."  Strictly  a  noli  me 
tang  ere  district  this  unknowable  was  to  him  in  sci- 
ence. With  a  firmness  and  a  finality  from  which 
there  was  no  appeal,  it  was  banished  from  his  re- 
searches and  studies.  But  they  had  called  him  the 
"  luckiest  "  surgeon  in  America  —  in  the  world  — 

202 


Dr.  Bernays  on  the  Turf 

and,  though  none  knew  better  than  he  that  this  luck 
of  his  rested  on  the  solid  rock  compounded  of  tal- 
ent, energy,  and  accurate,  hard,  patient  work,  there 
was  probably  left  in  the  subliminal  region  of  our 
common  human  nature,  above  which  he  could  no 
more  rise  than  other  good  men  and  true,  a  some- 
thing made  up  of  vanity  and  lurking  superstition, 
a  vestige  of  the  "  throw-back  "  to  the  savage  in- 
stincts which  made  him  at  times  give  ear  to  the 
flattering  thought  of  being  singled  out  by  destiny 
for  special  favors  —  for  "  luck." 

Innumerable  anecdotes  about  my  brother's  ex- 
ploits on  the  turf  are  current.  A  few  incidents 
which  I  witnessed  or  know  to  be  true,  and  his  con- 
duct when  they  occurred,  may  serve  to  illustrate 
this  phase  of  his  character. 

Once,  when  I  was  with  him  at  Saratoga  in  the 
summer  of  1890  or  189 1,  I  was  ill  and  keeping 
my  bed.  It  was  a  bleak,  gray  day  in  June,  and 
nothing  without  tempted  me  to  abandon  my  bed  and 
book.  Breezily  the  Doctor  entered  as  I  was  lan- 
guidly sipping  my  coffee,  felt  my  pulse,  laughed, 
joked,  teased,  called  my  illness  hysteria  —  which  he 
knew  I  considered  the  most  insulting  of  diagnoses 
—  and,  wheedling,  cajoling,  scolding,  while  deftly 
flattering  me  by  calling  me  his  mascot,  succeeded 
in  making  me  get  up  and  go  with  him  to  the  races. 

203 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

It  was  a  feat  to  accomplish,  because,  aside  from 
my  feeling  distressingly  unfit,  nothing  bored  me 
quite  as  much  as  the  races  in  a  place  where,  in  the 
long  pauses  between  the  running,  I  had  not  even 
acquaintances  to  look  at  or  chat  with.  But  the 
Doctor  was  so  delighted  after  he  had  gained  his 
point  that  his  laughter  and  good  humor  made  up  for 
the  lack  of  sunshine  and  familiar  faces.  He  lost 
pretty  steadily  on  all  the  races  until  near  the  last, 
when  one  was  scheduled  with  only  a  few  horses  to 
run.  I  have,  of  course,  forgotten  all  important 
details,  such  as  weight,  pedigree,  record,  jockey, 
stables,  the  names  of  the  horses  entered,  or  even 
the  name  of  the  winner.  I  remember  only  that  the 
Doctor  called  one  "  an  old  timer  who  used  to  win." 
He  was  anything  but  a  favorite,  and  they  were 
laying  eighty  and  one  hundred  against  him.  The 
Doctor  came  back  from  the  ring,  his  eyes  sparkling 
with  excitement.  "  I  am  lucky  on  long  shots,"  he 
said,  "  and  because  you  are  with  me  today  I  have 
put  $10  on  the  old  timer  to  win  and  $10  for  place, 
and  I  bet  he'll  make  some  money  for  me."  Sure 
enough,  the  "  long  shot "  came  in  first,  and  the  Doc- 
tor went  home  fingering  a  "  wad."  That  afternoon 
he  sent  me  an  immense  box  of  the  most  expensive 
flowers  and  a  marvelous  hat  of  gold  lace  and  black 
plumes,  at  which  he  had  seen  me  cast  a  furtive  and 

204 


Dr.  Be  mays  on  the  Turf 

resigned  glance  as  I  passed  the  swagger  modiste's 
shop  window  where  it  was  resplendent. 

The  tale  of  his  saving  the  mare  Slipalong  when 
he  was  at  Saratoga  in  1889  characterizes  well  his 
impulsive  desire  to  preserve  the  life  of  and  the  pos- 
sibility of  getting  progeny  from  a  highbred  animal, 
as  well  as  his  originality  and  his  swiftness  of  reso- 
lution and  energy  of  action  —  his  ignoring  of  con- 
ventionality. They  were  about  to  shoot  the  in- 
jured creature  after  she  had  slipped  and  broken  her 
leg  in  front  of  the  club  house,  when  he  came  run- 
ning up  and  begged  the  owners  to  let  him  try  to 
save  her.  "  I  am  not  a  horse  doctor,"  he  said,  "  but 
I  can  set  her  leg,  and,  though  she  will  never  race 
again,  she  will  live."  The  Franklins,  who  owned 
her,  had  no  objection,  of  course,  to  saving  the 
blooded  creature.  He  put  her  leg  in  plaster  of 
Paris,  and  had  her  so  hung  in  a  canvas  swing  as  to 
take  the  weight  off  the  leg.  She  recovered,  was  sent 
back  to  Gallatin,  Tennessee,  and  there  lived  and 
served  her  owners  as  a  broodmare  for  years. 

"  The  Laryngotomy  on  Long  Odds "  another 
story  might  be  entitled,  which  even  now  tickles  the 
risibles  of  habitues  of  the  turf  when  they  think  of 
it.  It  shows  the  Doctor  as  acting  on  a  theory  which 
his  flourishing  imagination  and  his  self-confidence 
represented  as  practical  and  plausible,  but  which  did 

205 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

not,  on  the  test,  work  out  as  foreseen  in  his  fancy. 
"  Long  Odds,"  it  seems,  was  a  promising  racer  in 
his  earliest  youth,  and  as  a  two-year-old  almost 
equaled  the  track  record  of  five  furlongs.  But  he 
"  went  wrong."  Before  he  was  a  three-year-old  he 
had  a  laryngitis,  and  had  become  what  in  racing 
parlance  is  called  a  "  roarer."  Thereafter  he  could 
not  go  further  than  three-eighths  to  one-half  mile. 
That  much,  however,  he  could  do  at  phenomenal 
speed.  August  bought  him  because  he  believed  he 
could  cure  him  of  his  scarcity  of  wind  by  an  opera- 
tion. Seeing  the  horse  had  the  racing  spirit  in  him, 
he  felt  sure,  if  he  were  physically  fit,  his  ambition 
would  keep  up  his  speed  for  more  than  his  accus- 
"tomed  half  mile.  So  August  arranged  with  the 
Fair  Grounds'  officials  to  provide  a  race  at  five- 
eighths  of  a  mile  for  horses  that  had  not  been  one- 
two-three  in  a  race  for  two  years.  Needless  to 
say  that  when  this  race  was  announced  there  were 
many  entrances. 

About  a  week  before  the  races  the  Doctor  oper- 
ated on  Long  Odds,  and  when,  two  days  before  the 
event,  the  trainer  tried  him  out  he  ran  the  half 
mile  in  fifty  seconds.  It  was  the  unanimous  opin- 
ion of  those  present  that  morning  —  the  owner, 
the  trainer,  and  a  small  group  of  friends  —  that 
nothing  save  some  unforeseen  accident  could  cause 

206 


Dr.  Bernays  on  the  Turf 

Long  Odds  to  lose  in  the  coming  race.  On  the 
great  day  the  horse  was  listed  early  by  the  Doctor 
and  his  intimates.  The  trainer  reported  him  in 
the  pink  of  condition.  He  had  breezed  him  again 
that  morning  through  the  stretch,  and  in  his  opinion 
there  was  never  anything  put  over  the  plate  in  St. 
Louis  to  equal  this.  "  Why,  Doc,  he  can't  lose !  "  he 
kept  repeating. 

There  were  about  fifteen  starters  in  the  race.  The 
price  against  Long  Odds  was  longer  than  against 
any  other  starter  —  at  first  ioo  to  i,  then  falling 
to  500  to  1.  But  after  the  Doctor  had  imparted 
his  faith  in  Long  Odds,  together  with  his  reasons 
for  such  faith,  to  a  few  of  his  dear  five  hundred 
friends,  and  had  sent  his  commissioners  through 
the  ring  betting  $2  all  ways  on  the  animal,  the  price 
rapidly  fell.  The  public  pricked  its  ears,  caught 
on,  got  aboard,  and  Long  Odds  went  to  the  post  at 
about  2  to  1. 

At  the  post  Long  Odds,  as  well  as  several  other 
horses,  "  acted  badly,"  breaking  away  repeatedly, 
but  after  about  twenty  minutes  they  were  off.  Long 
Odds,  in  the  center  of  the  bunch  at  the  start,  lost  no 
time  in  getting  to  the  front.  At  the  first  eighth  he 
was  six  lengths  ahead,  and  at  the  quarter  he  had 
increased  the  gap  between  himself  and  the  next  horse 
to  ten  lengths.     The  others  straggled  in  procession. 

207 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

At  the  three-eighths  something  seemed  to  happen. 
Either  the  horse  nearest  Long  Odds  suddenly  ac- 
quired a  new  lease  on  life,  or  Long  Odds  took  to 
racing  crawfish  fashion.  At  the  half  the  revived 
horse  had  passed  Long  Odds,  and  during  the  last 
eighth  every  other  horse  did  the  same.  The  subse- 
quent fate  of  Long  Odds  need  not  be  dwelt  upon. 
His  life-lines  henceforth  lay  not  among  the  elite 
of  his  species. 

My  brother  would  talk  about  a  horse  being 
"  smart  "  exactly  as  if  it  were  a  human  being,  and  at 
times  took  the  same  interest  in  a  horse's  education 
as  if  it  had  human  understanding.  With  him  the 
sport  was  more  than  a  hobby  —  it  was  a  passion. 
He  entered  into  it  with  all  his  mind,  all  his  heart, 
and  brought  to  bear  on  it  all  his  powers,  phys- 
ical and  mental,  so  that  he  was  both  wise  and  fool- 
ish about  it.  But  he  was  not  built  to  do  things 
by  halves.  When  he  worked  he  bent  all  his  com- 
plex and  wonderful  make-up  to  his  work;  when  he 
played,  it  was  with  equal  zest. 

Going  to  the  races,  betting  on  them,  keeping  a 
stable,  and  having  his  own  horses  trained,  adding 
some  of  his  original  notions  to  the  ordinary  meth- 
ods of  the  trainers,  was  his  playing.  It  took  his 
mind  completely  off  the  agitating  career  he  followed 
with  such  intensity.     The  constant  excitement  of 

208 


Dr.  Bernays  on  the  Turf 

handling  human  life  at  the  crucial  point,  where  the 
death  angel  hovers  near,  demanded  a  counter-inter- 
est. Many  of  the  former  great  surgeons  deadened 
their  nerves  with  opiates  or  with  drink,  and  many 
were  addicted  to  games  of  chance.  Few  of  those 
who  are  original  and  daring,  and  who  do  not  select 
their  material,  rejecting  desperate  cases,  are  suffi- 
ciently cold  and  lacking  in  temperament  not  to  be- 
come more  or  less  openly  prone  to  some  form  of 
excess.  Only  where  the  blood  runs  hotly  through 
healthy  veins,  too  hotly  to  be  always  bridled,  is 
genius  found.  Blake  has  well  said,  "  The  road  of 
excess  leads  to  the  palace  of  wisdom."  It  is  but 
too  obvious  that  this  road  is  often  a  short  cut  at 
the  same  time  to  death,  which  may  be  the  open  door 
to  yet  greater  wisdom,  or  the  door  shut  forever  on 
the  wisdom  obtainable  by  the  individual.  That  Dr. 
Bernays'  life  was  too  early  cut  off  by  his  exciting 
life-work,  together  with  the  equally  unchecked  love 
of  exciting  sport,  is  probably  true.  He  followed,  in 
living  as  he  lived,  the  law  of  his  imperious  nature. 
A  big,  bright  flame  blown  upon  by  a  vigorous  wind 
soon  burns  up  the  fuel,  diffusing  heat  and  light. 
A  feeble  glow  smokes  and  smolders  a  long  time, 
but  it  warms  nothing  —  brightens  and  lights  up 
nothing.  If  noticed  at  all,  it  merely  irritates  until 
it  is  forgotten. 

209 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

My  brother  knew  —  at  least  he  early  had  a  pre- 
sentiment—  that  his  life  would  not  be  long.  On 
the  day  our  father  was  cremated,  December  20, 
1888,  he  told  me  that  he  would  barely  live  to  see 
fifty.  Often  he  repeated  a  phrase  I  once  quoted  to 
him  from  one  of  the  late  Edouard  Rod's  novels, 
"Que  la  vie  soit  courte  et  bonne!"  (a  short  life 
and  a  merry  one ! )  He  must  have  known  that  the 
double  excitement  of  intense  work  and  strenuous 
play  created  a  strain  too  heavy  for  his  heart  to  bear 
long. 

Yet  even  after  the  memento  mori  he  had  in  1903 
he  did  not  entirely  relinquish  racing.  As  late  as 
1904  he  bought  some  horses  from  J.  D.  Lucas.  I 
recall  the  rainy  Sunday  afternoon  in  spring  when 
we  sat  in  the  picture-room  of  the  old  house  on 
Laclede  avenue  after  an  early  dinner,  and  I  helped 
him  name  them.  He  explained  how  the  naming 
was  usually  done,  so  as  to  recall  the  parents  or  other 
famous  ancestors  of  the  young  animal.  We  suc- 
ceeded in  finding  some  of  the  most  ludicrous  com- 
binations imaginable,  and  the  Doctor's  mirth  was  as 
in  his  youngest  days.  He  enjoyed  my  giving  up 
for  once  my  attitude  of  detachment  toward  racing 
and  adding  what  literary  reminiscence  I  could 
quickly  summon  to  the  task  in  hand.  He  waxed 
jubilant,  and  saw  in  his  mind  the  string  with  such 

210 


Dr.  Bernays  on  the  Turf 

freakish  names  as  Hast  Du  Geseh'n,  Rhyme  and 
Reason,  Sartor  Resartus,  and  Donahigh  as  big 
winners  —  perhaps  one  of  them  crowned  with  the 
Derby.  But,  sad  to  say,  their  recherche  names 
were  not  efficacious.  They  never  did  more  than 
"  also  run,"  and  a  creature  answering  to  the  inglo- 
rious and  plebeian  appellation  of  "  Broodier  "  served 
to  offset  the  Doctor's  losses  on  the  string  of  the 
weird  and  far-fetched  names. 

It  was  not  to  be  marveled  at  that  the  Doctor's 
enemies  seized  upon  and  made  most  of  his  foible 
for  the  turf.  When  his  skill  as  an  operator  and 
his  scientific  reputation  were  long  established  past 
question  or  doubt,  it  never  came  amiss  to  play  to 
"  the  gallery  " —  by  raising  pious  eyes  of  horror  to 
Heaven  and  shaking  fat,  self-righteous  heads  at 
Dr.  Bernays'  "  dreadful  habits  and  associations." 
This  did  not  worry  him  as  much  as  it  did  his  rela- 
tives and  friends.  He  trusted  the  elite  of  the  pro- 
fession (the  "dress  circle"  in  his  parlance),  espe- 
cially the  rising  generation,  to  compare  his  results 
with  those  of  men  who  were  mere  pillars  of  the 
church  or  high  dignitaries  by  pull  and  influence, 
who  guessed  at  anatomy,  trusted  to  God  as  to  the 
pathology,  and  with  fingers  all  thumbs  bungled 
through  their  operations. 

The  reporters  and  the  caricaturists  naturally  also 

211 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

made  free  with  the  sporting  side  of  the  Doctor's 
life.  The  strong  and  widely  diffused  interest  taken 
in  racing  during  the  quarter  of  a  century  of  his 
activity  made  the  individual  manner  with  which  a 
man  of  his  scientific  reputation  approached  this  sport 
a  piquant  dish  often  to  be  served  to  a  public  hungry 
for  details  about  the  habits  and  temperament  of 
men  of  distinction.  I  do  not  remember  when  the 
first  caricature  of  him  appeared.  It  was  a  foregone 
conclusion  that  this  tribute,  marking  the  transition 
from  a  personality  to  a  personage,  would  harp  on 
his  weakness  for  the  turf.  A  number  of  such  cari- 
catures, rather  lacking  in  subtlety,  exist,  as  well  as 
innumerable  more  or  less  witty  allusions  in  the 
sporting  columns  of  all  the  publications  of  the  city 
to  his  opinions,  his  experiments,  his  winnings,  his 
losses.  Once  or  twice  he  publicly  abjured  all  further 
connection  with  the  sport,  disgusted  with  himself 
as  well  as  with  the  whole  atmosphere  of  the  stables 
and  the  tracks,  and  went  back  to  it  again  and  again 
from  pure  perversity,  or  eager  to  work  out  some 
fresh  notion  —  some  new  theory  for  the  develop- 
ment of  the  horse. 

One  illustrated  interview  from  the  Globe-Demo- 
crat represents  him  in  exaggerated  rotundity  stand- 
ing on  an  inverted  tub  haranguing  a  horse  that 
looks  like  a  mule.     His  short  legs  are  abbreviated 

212 


Dr.  Bernays  on  the  Turf 

to  absurdity,  and  a  hook-nose  he  never  had  embel- 
lishes his  countenance.  But  somehow  the  attitude 
and  the  gesture  of  his  hands  and  arms  suggest  him 
perfectly.  The  article  is  headed,  "  The  Horse's 
Brain  Must  Be  Trained  —  Dr.  Bernays  Has  Views 
About  Educating  the  Racing  Equine."  He  is 
quoted  as  saying : 

Ninety-nine  out  of  every  hundred  trainers  work  on  the 
theory  that  the  art  of  conditioning  a  horse  physically  is  all  that 
is  required  of  them.  After  learning  how  to  condition  a  horse, 
they  immediately  proceed  to  pose  as  competent  trainers.  In 
their  estimation  nothing  remains  for  them  to  do  but  to  get 
good  horses  and  establish  a  reputation  as  a  trainer  of  the 
first  class.  Of  course  I  don't  deny  that  the  art  of  condition- 
ing a  race  horse  is  one  of  the  essentials  to  the  success  of  the 
trainer.  After  a  horse  is  thoroughly  developed,  a  first-class 
mechanic  can  go  ahead  and  win  with  him,  but  my  argument 
covers  the  early  development  of  the  animal.  When  a  horse 
is  in  the  junior  stage  of  life,  a  trainer  who  can  convey  to 
the  youngster  an  idea  of  what  is  desired  of  it  on  the  track 
is  the  man  who  is  a  real  master  at  his  business.  Some  horses 
are  superior  to  others  in  intelligence ;  this  kind  can  be  taught 
much  easier. 

Hamburg  is  a  great  horse  because  he  knows  what  he  is  sent 
on  the  track  for.  I  saw  him  run  in  the  East  last  fall,  and 
he  does  it  artistically.  When  he  lines  up  before  the  starting 
gate  he  never  wastes  any  of  his  strength  in  rearing  around 
and  acting  badly.  Neither  have  I  ever  seen  him  run  very  far 
in  a  false  break.  Somehow  he  always  knows  when  the  start 
is  a  go,  and  invariably  gets  away  in  a  good  position.  In 
running  he  also  shows  superior  intelligence  to  the  average 
horse.    His  style  and  action  are  perfect.     He  runs  fast  with- 

213 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

out  apparently  the  least  exertion.  His  feet  work  close  to  the 
ground,  and  every  spring  is  executed  gracefully  and  rapidly. 
Like  the  great  Hamburg,  Mr.  C.  C.  Maffitt's  colt,  Gibraltar, 
is  a  good  horse  for  exactly  the  same  reason.  He  knows  what 
is  wanted  of  him  when  he  gets  away  from  the  starting  gate. 

The  general  run  of  race  horses  are  trained  alike.  In  their 
two-year-old  form  they  are  broken  and  worked  to  a  point 
where  their  trainers  think  they  are  ready  to  race.  A  jockey 
is  then  lifted  on  them  with  whip  and  spur,  and  told  to  get  off 
well,  take  the  shortest  way  around  the  track,  and  win  as  easily 
as  he  can.  If  the  colt  or  filly  acts  a  trifle  unruly  before  the 
gate,  the  jockey  uses  his  whip  or  steel  to  subject  the  animal. 
In  the  race,  no  matter  if  the  colt  is  running  as  fast  as  it 
possibly  can,  the  jockey  will  invariably  ply  the  lash  and  stick 
the  steel  into  its  flanks. 

This  sort  of  treatment  at  the  outset  of  a  two-year-old's 
career  has  a  tendency  to  sour  the  animal.  After  being  used 
in  the  same  manner  year  in  and  year  out,  the  horse  gets 
cunning  and  runs  that  way.  The  animal  knows  that  it  will 
be  fed,  win  or  lose,  and  simply  goes  through  the  process  of 
racing  on  the  track  in  a  mechanical  manner,  without  the  fire 
and  dash  that  characterize  all  great  horses.  Fire  and  dash 
are  the  keynote  of  my  theory.  Inject  them  into  your  horse, 
and  you  will  have  a  sure-enough  race  horse.  Without  them 
little  can  be  looked  for.  I  wish  I  had  the  time  to  make  an 
elaborate  study  of  this  question,  and  satisfy  myself  by  per- 
sonal experiments.  I  believe  I  could  solve  the  mystery  of 
how  to  train  the  horse  along  scientific  lines,  and  do  it  thor- 
oughly. 

The  men  who  know  how  to  do  it  are  unable  to  tell  how 
they  accomplish  it.  It  seems  to  be  a  knack  that  comes  to 
them  in  a  manner  utterly  inexplicable.  I  have  talked  to  men 
whom  I  considered  thoroughly  capable  of  telling  me  what  I 
wanted  to  know,  but  they  failed  to  satisfy  my  thirst  for  knowl- 
edge; not  because  they  didn't  care  to  oblige  me,  but  simply 

214 


Dr.  Bernays  on  the  Turf 

because  they  couldn't.  During  the  past  three  or  four  years 
I  have  been  having  my  own  horses  trained  according  to  my 
own  ideas.  I  admit  that  I  have  achieved  nothing  to  brag 
about,  but  I  hope  to  do  so  eventually.  When  I  get  this  thing 
solved,  I  expect  to  win  stakes  with  Sir  Joseph  Lister  and 
Equitome. 

This,  in  his  own  words,  shows  his  preoccupation 
with  the  scientific  side  of  the  problem  of  achieving 
high-class  horses.  He  probably  believed  that  with 
his  equipment  as  a  student  of  biology  he  was  des- 
tined to  revolutionize  the  systems  in  vogue.  For 
a  time  he  tried  feeding  his  colts  on  sodium-hypo- 
phosphites  in  order  to  develop  their  cell  nuclei  and 
bones  —  to  build  up  their  tissues,  in  other  words. 
But  nature  did  not  take  the  hint  —  the  colts  so  fed 
also  disappointed  him.  The  mystery  of  making 
them  winners,  which  he  constantly  dreamed  within 
his  grasp,  continued  to  elude  him.  To  hear  him 
talk,  he  almost  believed  horses  had  souls  that  could 
be  inspired  to  victory.  This  was  the  more  amusing 
because  he  would  perversely  deny  soul  to  the  hu- 
mans on  occasion,  arguing,  as  was  absurdly  obvious, 
that  in  his  dissecting  he  had  not  come  across  its 
seat. 

His  master  passion  frequently  interlined  and  at- 
tempted to  dignify  his  infatuation  for  this  sport. 
Some  of  his  horses  were  named  The  Doctor,  The 
Surgeon,  and  Sir  Joseph  Lister  in  compliment  to 

215 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

his  profession,  with  a  desperate  emphasis  on  his 
more  serious  self. 

A  horse  named  in  his  honor,  Dr.  Bernays,  turned 
out  to  be  a  very  successful  racer,  and  made  quite 
a  record  on  southern  race  courses  as  well  as  on  the 
Pacific  coast.  It  is  told  that  my  brother  once  en- 
countered his  namesake  —  in  Memphis,  I  believe, 
in  1903  —  on  the  turf  and  permitted  himself  to  be 
dared,  and  guyed,  and  jollied  into  backing  the  equine 
Dr.  Bernays  for  a  considerable  amount,  with  the 
astonishing  result  that  he  made  a  big  winning  — 
some  give  the  figure  at  $5,000. 

In  spite  of  such  occasional  windfalls,  his  predi- 
lection cost  him  several  fortunes,  as  well  as  things 
infinitely  more  precious  than  money.  His  friends 
say  that  he  was  plucked  by  his  trainers,  jockeys, 
and  attendants,  as  well  as  by  the  bookmakers.  Most 
likely  that  is  true,  and  in  his  heart  of  hearts  he 
seems  to  have  been  contemptuously  aware  of  being 
thus  cheated.  The  fact  that  for  a  time  he  entered 
his  racing  horses  and  received  racing  periodicals 
and  other  literature  under  the  significant  pseu- 
donym, Mr.  Jay  Easy,  would  indicate  as  much. 

After  all,  his  ambition  of  winning  the  Derby  with 
a  self-selected  colt,  reared  according  to  his  ideas, 
was  never  realized.  Indeed,  no  horse  of  his  won  a 
great  race,  and  that  must  have  been  a  sore  disap- 

216 


Dr.  Bernays  on  the  Turf 

pointment.  On  the  other  hand,  he  extracted  gen- 
uine fun  and  the  joy  of  anticipation  out  of  this 
intense  form  of  play,  and  he  regarded  the  time  spent 
in  the  open  air,  inhaling,  as  was  his  wont,  deep 
draughts  of  ozone  at  the  old  St.  Louis  Fair  Grounds, 
at  Saratoga,  and  at  other  beautiful  resorts  as  an  asset 
to  health. 


217 


CHAPTER  XIV 
DR.  BERNAYS'  TEMPERAMENT 

Nothing  distinguishes  great  men  from  inferior  more  than 
their  always  knowing,  whether  in  life  or  art,  the  way  things 
are  going. —  Ruskin. 

In  a  very  stimulating  volume  entitled  "  Great 
Men,"  which  Professor  W.  Ostwald  published  about 
two  years  ago,  he  divides  the  scientific  men  who 
advance  the  thought  of  the  world  into  two  classes  — 
the  romantic  and  the  classic. 

The  romantic  are  precocious,  swift  even  to  the 
precipitate  and  premature  in  thought  and  action, 
strewing  broadcast  their  ideas  early  in  life,  giving 
them  out  before  they  have  been  thoroughly  tested, 
full  of  enthusiasm  themselves  and  endowed  with 
the  power  of  arousing  enthusiasm  in  others;  there- 
fore successful  and  popular  leaders  and  teachers  — 
emotional,  impulsive,  optimistic. 

The  classic  are  deliberate,  phlegmatic,  sometimes 
even  melancholy,  never  putting  forth  an  idea  until 
they  have  worked  it  out  and  proved  it  beyond  the 
possibility  of  a  doubt,  prone  to  be  reserved,  unso- 

218 


Dr.  Bemays'  Temperament 

ciable,  disinclined  to  give  or  take  ideas,  unsuccessful 
teachers,  unwilling  or  unable  to  stimulate  and 
arouse  the  young  by  contact,  dominated  by  reason  — 
almost  never  by  feeling. 

According  to  Professor  Ostwald's  classification 
of  the  temperaments  of  scientific  men,  my  brother 
was  distinctly  of  the  romantic  type.  The  descrip- 
tion above  given  of  the  peculiar  make-up  of  this 
type  fits  him  like  a  glove. 

Dr.  Bernays  fully  indorsed  the  Osier  dictum,  so 
much  discussed  within  the  last  decade  of  his  life  — 
maintaining  not  that  a  man's  usefulness  is  over  at 
forty,  but  that  what  is  accomplished  after  that  age 
is  based  on  conceptions  dating  back  to  younger  days. 
Osier  is,  indeed,  far  from  being  the  first  to  make 
this  announcement.  It  is  well  known  that  Goethe 
dwelt  on  the  fact  that  all  the  vast  arsenal  of  ideas 
with  which  he  worked  until  he  died  at  82,  as  well 
as  the  array  of  figures  and  types  he  created,  were 
the  fruit  of  his  youthful  imagination  and  thought. 
Though  not  always  expressed,  it  is  a  conviction 
probably  entertained  by  most  thoughtful,  somewhat 
introspective,  persons  above  mediocrity.  That  the 
qualities  we  call  creative  are  early  atrophied  and 
quite  disappear  with  advancing  years  in  men  distin- 
guished for  these  very  traits  in  youth  is  an  ancient 
commonplace.     The  Greeks  two  thousand  five  hun- 

219 


Augustus  Charles  Bemays 

dred  years  ago  said  those  whom  the  gods  love 
die  young.  The  desire  and  the  power  to  success- 
fully guide  the  young  diminish  as  the  years  increase, 
and  the  hair  grows  gray  or  the  head  bald,  so  that 
even  a  man  like  von  Liebig,  the  most  brilliant  teacher 
of  his  time,  who  for  thirty  years  supplied  the  world 
with  chemists  of  his  training,  when  a  little  over 
fifty  began  to  dislike  and  finally  abandoned  this 
form  of  activity. 

It  is  true  that  the  appreciative  faculties  hold 
out  longer,  and  deep  and  wide  experience  of  life 
would  seem  to  make  keener  the  enjoyment  derived 
from  intellectual  appreciation.  Still,  even  that  is 
relative  —  is  only  seeming.  At  any  rate,  nothing 
can  come  up  to  the  delight  confined  to  youth  —  of 
having  by  a  combination  of  the  imaginative  and 
reasoning  faculties  arrived  at  that  which  is  called 
creative.  The  sum  of  happiness  must  lie  for  the 
scientist  in  the  consciousness  of  having  helped  weave 
the  garment  of  life  by  some  discovery,  and  for  the 
artist  in  having  added  a  bar  to  the  rhythm  of  the 
universe.  And  these  achievements  are  those  of 
youth. 

One  faculty  increases  with  the  years  —  the  prog- 
nostic. Modern  science  is  restoring  to  renewed  re- 
spect the  gift  of  prophecy.     For  the  exercise  of  this 

220 


Dr.  Bernays'  Temperament 

function,  experience  is  desirable,  necessary,  unless 
the  gift  be  the  obscure  phenomenon  known  as  clair- 
voyance, which  is  still  overhung  with  thick  clouds  of 
doubt  and  trickery,  or  is  a  pathological  condition. 
The  prophetic  gift  that  has  legitimacy  is  based  on 
knowledge  of  causes  and  circumstances,  on  close- 
knit  logical  processes  of  the  scientific  mind,  accom- 
panied by  imagination.  This  gift  my  brother  had 
in  a  considerable  degree,  as  was  early  perceived 
by  that  profession  which  in  our  time  makes  the 
most  acceptable  bid  for  the  rapidly  passing  quality 
of  universality  or  at  least  versatility  —  the  jour- 
nalistic. The  late  Joseph  McCullough,  as  well  as 
the  present  editor-in-chief  of  the  Globe-Democrat, 
Henry  King,  were  both  friends  of  my  brother,  and 
a  habit  was  early  cultivated  by  the  management  of 
this  paper  of  sending  to  find  out  Dr.  Bernays'  views 
on  subjects  of  a  scientific  nature  that  had  bearing 
on  political  events.  It  was  realized  after  a  time  by 
all  the  local,  as  well  as  by  some  out-of-town,  publi- 
cations that  my  brother  would  be  likely  to  know  the 
"  way  things  were  going." 

On  an  occasion,  before  discussed  —  that  of  the 
Duestrow  case  —  the  Doctor  had  got  into  one  of 
his  rare  funks  about  being  misquoted,  and  had 
vowed  he  would  never  submit  to  another  interview. 

221 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

Then  the  following  paragraph  appeared  in  the  edi- 
torial columns  of  the  Globe-Democrat,  presumably 
from  the  pen  of  the  highest  in  authority  there : 

Dr.  Bernays  has  sued  the  Duestrow  estate  for  $15,800. 
The  Globe-Democrat  has  no  objection,  and  is  willing  to  leave 
the  case  to  the  courts.  But  the  Globe-Democrat  has  an  ob- 
jection to  the  declaration  of  Dr.  Bernays  in  connection  with 
the  Duestrow  case  —  that  he  would  never  more  allow  himself 
to  be  interviewed  by  the  newspapers.  We  can  not  afford  to 
be  thus  ruthlessly  deprived  of  a  valuable  contributor  on  sub- 
jects pertaining1  to  the  profession  of  which  the  Doctor  is  an 
honored  member.  And  when  the  next  great  surgical  case 
arises  we  shall  have  Dr.  Bernays  interviewed,  and,  if  he  feels 
aggrieved  at  the  result,  let  him  sue  the  Globe-Democrat  for 
$15,800  a  column.  Better  for  us  to  lose  such  a  suit  than  to 
lose  the  light  which  the  Doctor  can  shed  on  some  of  the  most 
interesting  topics  of  the  day. 

On  the  subject  of  Garfield's  condition  after  he 
had  been  shot,  in  the  cases  of  Grant's  tongue  and 
Emperor  Frederick's  throat,  his  opinion  was  re- 
quested and  given  prominence  in  the  papers. 

When,  later,  McKinley  lay  wounded  by  the  mur- 
derer's bullet,  my  brother  had  acquired  a  position 
of  such  authority  in  the  profession,  as  well  as  so 
much  confidence  in  himself,  that  he  did  not  hesitate 
to  state,  as  soon  as  the  attending  physicians  had 
published  their  bulletin  on  the  condition  of  the  pa- 
tient, that  there  was  no  hope  of  his  recovery. 

On  the  other  hand,  when  King  Edward  VII.  was 

222 


Dr.  Bernays'  Temperament 

suffering  from  the  intestinal  trouble  that  caused  the 
postponement  of  his  coronation,  he  as  confidently 
predicted  the  recovery  of  the  royal  sufferer.  No 
wonder  that,  whenever  some  important,  some  his- 
tory-making personage  was  afflicted  with  a  malady, 
reporters  came  flocking  to  the  Doctor's  office  and 
residence,  eager  for  his  views.  Fearlessly  and  un- 
equivocally he  gave  them,  and  proved  "  a  good 
guesser." 

The  most  curious  volte-face  was  made  during  his 
lifetime  by  his  own  profession  in  regard  to  the 
information  to  be  conveyed  to  the  public  on  the  sub- 
ject of  operations.  W.  M.  Reedy  quotes  in  March, 
1905,  from  an  article  in  McClure's  on  the  Mayo 
establishment  at  Rochester  as  follows : 

It  is  an  axiom  of  surgical  practice  that  the  earlier  the  case 
is  taken,  the  better  the  chance  of  success.  It  follows  that,  if 
we  can  educate  the  public  in  the  matter  of  the  common  sur- 
gical ailments,  our  patients  will  come  to  us  more  promptly, 
and  we  can  get  better  results.  Besides,  with  the  mystery  dis- 
sipated, the  terror  of  operations  will  be  greatly  diminished. 
Take  a  very  common  case  —  appendicitis.  I  venture  to  say 
that  the  majority  of  persons  believe  the  operation  for  appen- 
dicitis a  very  dangerous  one.  In  point  of  fact,  the  mortality 
is  less  than  in  diseases  which  are  not  feared  at  all  —  measles, 
for  instance,  or  whooping-cough.  Could  we  implant  that  fact 
in  the  public  mind  and  get  all  our  appendicitis  cases  early, 
instead  of  at  the  last  development,  as  many  of  them  now  come 
to  us,  we  could  reduce  the  present  low  mortality  by  half.     The 

223 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

policy  of  silence  is  a  relic.  It  was  made  for  the  days  when 
a  physician  who  talked  exposed  his  ignorance.  Surgery  is  no 
longer  empirical;  we  know  what  we  are  doing,  and  we  can 
afford  to  tell  it. 

To  this  Mr.  Reedy  adds : 

Dr.  Bernays,  for  using  this  argument,  was  for  years  ta- 
booed, but  the  taboo  made  him  not  less  one  of  America's 
greatest  operators,  one  of  the  highest  ranking  surgeons  of 
the  world. 

His  clearer  and  far  earlier  vision  is  being  cor- 
roborated in  numberless  concrete  instances  of 
present-day  practice.  Dr.  Bartlett,  for  instance, 
tells  me : 

When  everybody  was  using  the  Murphy  button  or  some 
other  mechanical  contrivance  as  an  aid  to  stomach  and  intes- 
tinal suture,  Dr.  Bernays  declared  that  a  man  who  did  not 
find  needle  and  thread  sufficient  to  do  intestinal  surgery  had 
no  business  to  tackle  surgery  of  the  hollow  viscera. 

On  cancer  my  brother's  views  have  been  and  are 
being  more  and  more  adopted.  Pending,  of  course, 
some  wonderful  discovery  of  the  cancer  germ  and 
the  means  of  its  extermination  —  which,  alas,  is  not 
in  sight  —  the  earliest  and  most  radical  excision 
of  all  the  tissue  involved  was  what  he  advocated 
unswervingly.  According  to  the  reports  of  the  can- 
cer hospitals,  after  trying  all  known  treatments, 
methods,  and  remedies  —  for  some  of  which  claims 
of  efficacy  were  made  —  this  procedure  is  now  gen- 

224 


Dr.  Bernays}  Temperament 

erally  adopted  as  the  most  successful  way  of  coping 
with  this  most  agonizing  of  human  ills. 

His  determined  and  unceasing  war  on  the  indis- 
criminate use  of  poisons  —  not  only  on  the  part  of 
the  gullible  patent-medicine-gulping  laity,  but  on  the 
part  of  physicians  and  surgeons  prescribing  them,  is 
unfortunately  still  far  from  victory.  Not  too  often 
can  such  emphatic  statements  be  repeated  as  these 
taken  from  his  "  Golden  Rules  of  Surgery:  " 

Rest  secured  by  means  of  poison  injected  into  the  human 
organism  is  apt  to  do  more  harm  than  good.  I  am  convinced 
that  the  administration  of  such  drugs  as  belladonna,  cocain, 
morphin,  strychnin,  veratrum,  digitalis,  and  many  other  poisons 
to  human  beings,  by  even  our  most  highly  educated  physicians, 
is  wrong.  We  know  but  little  of  their  real  effects  on  the 
healthy  animal;  how  much  less  do  we  know  of  their  force  and 
effect  on  the  weakened  organism  of  our  patient? 

I  am  of  the  opinion  that  the  physician  who  uses  drugs 
on  his  patient  overestimates  his  own  knowledge  of  the  action 
of  drugs,  and  nearly  always  has  been  misguided  by  his  blind 
trust  in  the  text  books  on  materia  medica.  I  wish  to  go  on 
record  as  being  opposed  to  the  general  use  of  drugs  in  the 
treatment  of  disease. 

The  idea  that  a  doctor's  main  business  is  to  write  prescrip- 
tions must  be  abolished  among  the  public.  The  scientific 
physicians  can  not  but  feel  the  deep  degradation  of  being  asked 
for  a  prescription  without  first  having  a  chance  to  make  an 
examination  and  diagnosis.  The  public  must  be  trained  to 
pay  for  the  latter  and  not  for  the  former.  If  we  reach  this 
appreciation  of  our  work  from  the  public,  as  many  of  us  have 
done,  there  will  be  but  little  left  for  the  prescription  doctor 
and  the  ignorant  quack  to  prey  upon. 

225 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

Since  these  words  were  written  five  years  have 
elapsed,  and  he  who  runs  may  read  and  perceive 
how  the  deadlock  between  the  public  and  internal 
medicine  has  been  growing  more  intense.  The  best 
physicians  are,  indeed,  following  the  course  above 
indicated  —  refusing  to  prescribe  until  they  know 
what  afflicts  the  patient,  and  insisting  more  and 
more  on  diet  and  regimen  of  life,  thus  taking  the 
wind  out  of  the  sails  of  the  quacks'  ships,  which, 
with  the  continued  new  creeds  that  take  a  hand  in 
medicine,  are  coming  to  constitute  a  fleet  —  let  us 
hope,  an  armada  —  that  will  soon  be  wrecked  on 
the  shoals  of  scientific  enlightenment.  His  sugges- 
tions in  regard  to  the  clearing  up  of  certain  patho- 
logical conditions  which  sorely  needed  such  clari- 
fication are  also  in  course  of  general  adoption.  He 
advocated  the  abolition  of  the  confusing  word  "  in- 
flammation "  and  the  substitution  of  the  words 
"  infection  "  and  "  tissue  unrest  "  to  mark  the  dis- 
tinction beween  processes  that  interrupt  and  retard 
healing  and  those  which  make  for  regeneration. 

In  matters  not  connected  with  his  profession  he 
was  apt  to  take  extreme  views  —  views  that  were 
revolutionary,  premature,  and  considered  inexpe- 
dient at  the  time.  His  intrepid  and  imaginative 
temperament,  stimulated  by  his  ready  and  generous 
enthusiasm   for   what   promised   aid  to   those  who 

226 


Dr.  Bernays'  Temperament 

need  it  most,  made  him  in  1896  a  strong  partisan 
of  Bryan  and  his  doctrines  of  reform.  He  sup- 
ported Meriwether  in  his  campaign  for  the  better- 
ment of  municipal  government  in  1901,  and  as  late 
as  1905,  at  a  time  when  he  was  far  too  ill  to  take 
an  active  part  in  politics,  he  allowed  his  name  to 
go  on  the  slate  of  the  moribund  Meriwether  inde- 
pendents, whose  very  leader  had  lost  heart  for  his 
own  cause,  in  order  to  mark  his  loyalty  and  staunch 
belief  in  progressive  ideas  —  possibly  also  to  help 
split  the  Republican  vote  and  better  insure  the 
reelection  of  Mayor  Wells,  whose  first  administra- 
tion had  done  much  toward  making  St.  Louis  a  more 
habitable  city. 

Sometimes  in  national  and  international  affairs 
his  outlook  was  extraordinarily  clear,  as  well  as  ex- 
tensive, and  he  foretold  future  events  exactly  and 
with  apodictic  certainty.  I  have  often  privately 
dwelt  on  one  of  his  predictions  which  filled  me  with 
wonder  and  incredulity  at  the  time  it  was  made 
and  with  awe  when  it  came  absolutely  true.  In 
1897  I  had  decided  to  give  our  youngest  brother, 
Walter,  who  had  just  graduated  in  chemistry  at 
Washington  University,  and  my  sister's  eldest  child, 
Eric,  who  had  become  a  member  of  our  house- 
hold early  in  that  year,  an  opportunity  of  study 
in   Europe.     Taking  Tantele   with  me  to   see   her 

227 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

native  land  once  more,  the  household  for  three  years 
was  to  be  kept  up  in  divided  form  on  either 
side  of  the  ocean.  The  three  bachelors  on  this  side 
of  the  Atlantic  —  all  old  enough  to  change  their 
state  —  were  incidentally  to  be  given  a  chance  to 
find  mates  and  build  their  own  nests,  and  thus  the 
stigma  constantly  being  cast  on  me  of  making  too 
comfortable  a  home  for  them  might  also  be  re- 
moved. It  is  true  that  the  old  nest  was  left  with 
a  tried  maid  of  staunchest  qualifications  to  keep  it 
in  order,  and  also  true  that  on  my  return  not  a 
bachelor  had  flown.  To  come,  however,  to  the 
point  of  my  tale,  the  Doctor  had  accompanied  us 
to  the  seashore,  and  in  the  hour  of  sailing  he  and 
I  were  leaning  on  the  railing  of  the  steamer  for  a 
last  chat.  I  had  been  idly  wondering  what  changes 
would  take  place  in  the  United  States  in  the  three 
years  of  my  projected  absence.  The  Doctor  was 
staring  into  the  distance,  sunk  in  one  of  his  rever- 
ies. Suddenly  he  wheeled  round  to  face  me,  and 
said  slowly  and  impressively,  as  if  he  had  read  it 
in  the  clouds,  "  In  three  years  from  now  the  United 
States,  after  having  engaged  in  war  with  Spain  and 
having,  of  course,  licked  her  opponent,  will  be  rid- 
ing the  topmost  crest  of  the  greatest  wave  of  pros- 
perity that  ever  struck  these  shores."  In  vain  I 
protested  that  our  policy  and  our  unreadiness  for 

228 


Dr.  Bernays*  Temperament 

war  committed  us  to  peace,  that  the  Cuban  disputes 
were  too  trifling  for  a  settlement  by  arms  —  all  the 
things  the  nation  believed  up  to  the  explosion  of 
the  Maine  —  but  the  Doctor  shook  his  head  and 
only  said,  "  You  will  see."  I  doubt  whether  this 
foreseeing  vision  was  held  by  any  one  else  on  earth 
at  the  time  it  was  expressed  with  such  assurance, 
force,  and  accuracy.  The  prophecy  could  have 
been  made  only  by  a  man  of  the  romantic  tem- 
perament, optimistic  by  reason  of  his  own  capacity 
and  achievement,  trusting  in  the  tremendous  ener- 
gies he  knew  to  be  stored  up  in  a  virile  and  self-confi- 
dent people  that  was  given  to  sudden  paroxysms  of 
feeling. 

Yet,  in  the  judgment  of  individual  human  char- 
acter the  Doctor  was  frequently  at  fault.  He 
grandly  erred  on  the  side  of  a  too  optimistic  view 
of  men.  Undoubtedly  this  is  preferable  to  its 
opposite  —  groundless,  cowardly  suspicion  —  and, 
where  there  are  rudiments  of  nobility  with  which 
to  work,  confidence  does  often  engender  the  will 
and  wish  to  live  up  to  them.  But  it  is  possible  to 
be  foolhardy  in  one's  assumptions.  My  brother 
indulged  himself  in  "  long  shots  "  on  character  as 
on  the  turf,  and  often  believed  that  for  his  sake 
the  leopard  would  change  his  spots.  He  went  in- 
credible lengths  in  this.     Even  when  he  had  proof 

229 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

incontrovertible  that  treachery  was  innate  and  ha- 
bitual in  a  nature,  and  he  saw  a  grain  of  capacity 
for  good  in  such  a  person,  he  would  say,  "  Give  him 
another  chance,"  or,  "  Well,  I  won't  kick  a  man 
that's  down,"  or,  "  No  matter  what  he  may  have 
done,  he  will  not  harm  me."  Wherein,  alas,  he 
was  often  mistaken.  Ingratitude  and  betrayal  of 
his  kindness  hurt  him  to  such  an  extent  that  he 
would  not  speak  of  it.  And  he  met  with  some  that 
screamed  to  heaven,  as  when  the  parents  of  the 
child  he  had  saved  from  certain  death  by  that  truly 
wonderful  operation  of  establishing  the  passage 
through  the  shrunken  esophagus  into  the  stomach, 
described  in  the  chapter  on  his  "  Daring,"  sued  him 
for  $60,000  damages  because  he  had  published  in 
a  medical  pamphlet  without  their  consent  a  cut  of 
this  child,  mentioning  her  initials  only,  and  show- 
ing by  diagram  the  work  he  had  done.  The  jury 
did  not  need  to  be  told,  as  they  were  by  my  broth- 
er's attorney,  that  the  plaintiffs  in  the  suit  ought 
to  have  erected  a  $60,000  monument  to  the  man 
who  saved  their  child,  that  was  playing  gayly  in 
the  court-room  at  the  time,  when  without  the  inter- 
vention of  his  skill  she  would  undoubtedly  have  been 
filling  a  little  grave. 

On  some  subjects  he  and  I  differed.     Strange  to 
say,  on  the  possibility  of  redemption  from  the  sin 

230 


Dr.  Bernays'  Temperament 

of  betrayal,  woman  that  I  am,  I  hold  the  stern  and 
skeptical  belief.  With  Dante  and  other  great  read- 
ers of  the  human  heart,  I  am  constrained  to  see  that 
treachery  is  inborn  and  ineradicable  —  a  bar  sin- 
ister on  character  that  stains  it  through  and 
through.  All  other  vices  can  be  condoned.  But 
how  meet  falsity  except  by  its  like?  You  have  no 
choice.  There  is  nothing  to  which  to  make  appeal. 
You  can  not  choose  but  to  become  either  the  dupe 
or  the  accomplice  of  that  kind  of  blighter  of  the 
joy  of  living.  But  the  Doctor  was  Christlike  in 
that,  though  knowing  of  the  Judas  sin,  he  did  again 
and  again  take  the  sinner  by  the  hand  where  I 
would  have  turned  my  back  forever. 

Still,  at  times  he  penetrated  the  mask  of  smug 
hypocrisy  readily  enough.  One  has  but  to  read  his 
chapter  entitled  "Off  With  the  Cloak"  in  his 
"  Golden  Rules  of  Surgery  "  to  see  that.  To  speak 
of  a  concrete  case,  when  he  was  ill  of  blood-poison- 
ing in  1884  and  wandering  in  his  mind,  yet  recog- 
nizing the  persons  he  saw,  a  brother  practitioner, 
ho  had  insisted  on  beino:  admitted  to  the   sick- 


w 


t5 


room,  was  standing  one  evening  at  the  foot  of  his 
bed.  Pointing  his  finger  at  this  man,  who  at  the 
time  had  rank  in  his  world,  he  said  scornfully,  and 
so  distinctly  that  it  was  most  embarrassing  to  the 
bystanders,   "  Show  that  old  hypocrite  out  of  the 

231 


Augustas  Charles  Bernays 

room."  Individuals  of  his  own  profession  whom 
he  caught  covering  up  inexcusable  ignorance  by 
pompousness  and  the  guerdon  of  social  position  he 
called  asses,  and  worse,  in  any  environment,  uncon- 
cerned at  the  likelihood  of  their  hearing  of  his 
applying  such  epithets  to  their  sacrosanct  persons. 
Neither  would  he  dance  to  the  pipe  of  the  influen- 
tial if  he  believed  that  mere  caprice  or  a  trifling 
ailment  summoned  him.  He  could  spurn  with 
Rabelaisian  rudeness  an  unwarranted  attempt  to  de- 
prive him  of  his  much-needed  rest.  On  one  occa- 
sion the  attendant  on  one  of  the  wealthiest  men  in 
town,  who,  in  the  dead  of  the  night,  requested  his 
immediate  presence  in  the  palace  of  the  mighty,  got 
for  answer  by  telephone,  "  Oh,  send  for  a  horse 
doctor  —  I  need  rest  myself."  The  stomach  or  jaw 
of  an  impecunious  negro  might  command  his  serv- 
ice when  the  passing  indisposition  of  the  millionaire, 
however  great  the  fee  and  the  prestige  to  be  ob- 
tained, would  leave  him  unresponsive. 

He  occasionally  acted  on  his  impulses  to  a  de- 
gree that  was  unwise  and  sometimes  unpardonable 
in  a  grown  person.  But  his  weaknesses  were  so 
inextricably  intertwisted  with  his  manifold  charm 
and  his  evident  power  that  it  was  hopeless  to  try  to 
separate  the  former  from  the  latter.  Besides,  his 
childlike  candor  and  his  contrition  were  disarming. 

232 


Dr.  Bemays'  Temperament 

Yet,  with  all  his  simplicity  and  directness,  he  was 
often  complex  and  contradictory. 

Those  who  heard  him  romancing  sometimes  on 
ordinary  happenings  of  the  day  might  have  difficulty 
in  crediting  him  with  the  unique,  sincere,  almost 
fanatic,  devotion  and  accuracy  he  had  in  scientific 
matters.  Nor  would  those  who  heard  him  disparage 
drugs  have  believed  their  eyes  had  they  seen  him  in 
illness,  as  I  have,  allow  himself  to  be  persuaded  by 
his  medical  adviser  to  use  three  kinds  of  "  poison  "  at 
once.  Perhaps  the  sick  Dr.  Bernays  was  more  sug- 
gestible than  the  healthy;  perhaps  he  did  not  mind 
trying  the  effect  on  himself,  so  as  to  know  of  his 
own  knowledge  what  the  drug  would  do;  perhaps 
the  optimist  in  him  hoped  against  hope,  or  he  just 
sought  —  sensitive  as  he  was  to  pain  —  momentary 
respite. 

He  had  the  bad  western  habit  of  interjecting  into 
his  talk  a  great  many  unnecessary  expletives,  com- 
monly known  as  "  swear  words."  At  times  he  used 
them  so  profusely  that  they  weakened  his  state- 
ments, and  when  I  pointed  this  out  to  him  he 
would,  with  his  unvarying  gentleness  toward  me, 
promise  to  mend.  Often,  when  the  other  men  in 
the  house  forgot  themselves  in  my  presence  and 
used  the  kind  of  words  indicated  in  books  for  polite 
readers  by  dashes,  he  resented  the  offense  and  sol- 

233 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

emnly  enjoined  me  to  forbid  them  such  language 
under  pain  of  banishment  from  my  sight.  In  the 
very  making  of  such  a  recommendation  it  was  pos- 
sible that  one  of  the  tabooed  expressions  would 
escape  him,  when  to  keep  a  sober  face  was  altogether 
beyond  me.  Exhortations  to  members  of  the  circle 
to  economy  had  likewise  only  the  force  of  humor. 
Shouts  of  derision  often  met  his  quixotisms.  But 
he  could  parry  attacks  with  wonderful  aptitude  and 
celerity  of  repartee. 

Though  the  dean  of  our  stronghold  of  celibacy, 
he  exacted  no  deferential  demeanor  on  the  part  of 
the  other  members,  either  on  the  score  of  age,  posi- 
tion, achievement,  experience,  or  knowledge.  He 
knew  that  authority  and  deference  would  come  to 
him  as  his  due  in  lifetime  or  thereafter.  When, 
like  the  rest  of  the  world,  we  were  plainly  not  ready 
for  his  deeper  insight  or  farther  horizons,  he  would 
calmly  and  firmly  maintain  his  opinion  without 
showing  impatience  with  our  limited  outlook. 


234 


CHAPTER  XV 

DR.  BERNAYS  AT  HOME 

The  intelligence  feeds  the  affections.  Who  knows  most, 
loves  most,  and  he  who  loves  most,  enjoys  most. —  St.  Cath- 
erine of  Siena, 

Very  few  people  realized  how  much  Dr.  Bernays 
cared  for  his  home,  excepting,  of  course,  the  neces- 
sarily restricted  circle  who  were  frequent  visitors 
in  it,  and  who  saw  him  in  his  capacity  as  host,  as 
head  of  the  household,  as  the  blithe  spirit  that  cast 
its  spell  of  wholesome  enjoyment  of  things  as  they 
are  in  this  world  over  every  one  who  came  inti- 
mately within  his  radius. 

Especially  after  we  acquired  the  house  on  Laclede 
avenue,  which,  though  of  the  dry-goods-box  archi- 
tecture of  the  eighties  in  its  external  aspect,  had  an 
old-fashioned,  high-ceilinged,  stately,  and  spacious 
interior,  did  he  take  great  pleasure  and  pride  in 
acquiring  objects  to  decorate  it  —  things  that  lent 
character,  beauty,  and  interest  to  his  every-day  sur- 
roundings. He  was  prone  to  be  too  lavish  in  this, 
and,  what  with  his  purchases  and  the  innumerable 

235 


Augustus  Charles  Bemays 

gifts  of  friends  and  former  patients,  the  place  at 
times  resembled  a  museum.  These  indiscriminate 
gifts  we  designated  by  the  generic  title  of  G.  P., 
signifying  Grateful  Patients.  They  varied  with  the 
taste  and  intelligence  of  the  giver,  from  the  truly 
beautiful  to  the  tawdry,  incongruous,  and  impos- 
sible. The  Doctor  naturally  received  every  G.  P. 
with  his  air  of  being  immensely  pleased  —  as  he 
was  with  the  gracious  thought  that  inspired  the 
giver  —  whether  it  was  the  stuffed  duck  of  an  an- 
cient taxidermist,  the  antimacassar  of  a  poor  seam- 
stress, the  diamond  ring  of  the  millionaire,  a  beau- 
tiful bear  skin,  or  a  case  of  good  wine.  It  was  the 
feminine  head  of  the  house,  in  the  person  of  the 
writer  of  this  memoir,  whose  ingenuity  was  greatly 
taxed  as  to  the  discreet  disposal  and  gradual  sup- 
pression by  stages  of  relegation  to  farther  and  far- 
ther back-rooms  of  that  which  she  irreverently 
called  "  junk."  Things  had  such  a  habit  of  accu- 
mulating and  littering  the  house  that,  after  seeing 
on  our  visit  to  their  island  how  the  refined  taste 
of  the  Japanese  repulsed  and  abhorred  the  hetero- 
geneous medley  of  objects  with  which  we  barbarous 
Occidentals  dissipate  thought  and  distract  attention, 
she  threatened  to  build  a  "  go-down  "  in  the  back- 
yard for  the  harboring  of  our  own  growing  collec- 
tion of  objets  d'art  as  well  as  of  unsuitable  G.  P.'s 

236 


Dr.  Bernays  at  Home 

—  in  imitation  of  the  Orientals  to  bring  out  but  one 
piece  at  a  time,  before  which  we  might  sit  or  kneel 
in  study  or  meditation,  until  the  intention  of  the 
artist  penetrated  and  suffused  our  souls.  This  de- 
sign was  never  carried  out,  however,  and  to  the 
end  of  my  housekeeping  I  struggled  with  super- 
fluity. 

We  contrived,  however,  in  the  course  of  time  to 
give  the  interior  a  rather  unusual  and  interesting 
appearance,  due  to  the  massing  of  homogeneous 
objects,  the  arranging  of  colors,  the  lucky  choosing 
of  backgrounds,  and  the  intrinsic  value  and  rarity 
of  some  of  the  paintings,  hangings,  and  bric-a-brac. 

In  a  way  the  Doctor  was  what  I  sometimes  called 
him,  a  sybarite,  and  yet  —  in  contradiction  of  this 

—  of  the  greatest  simplicity.  He  was  always  buy- 
ing arm  and  rocking  chairs  of  ever  more  comfort- 
able design,  either  for  the  house  or  the  lawn.  His 
bed  was  finally  piled  with  mattresses  almost  match- 
ing in  number  those  of  the  Princess  of  the  Crumpled 
Rose-leaf  in  order  to  insure  ease  and  softness,  and  to 
woo  the  capricious  god  of  slumber.  He  was  always 
eager  to  purchase  whatever  promised  to  lighten  or 
shorten  labor,  whether  it  was  for  his  own  profes- 
sional use  or  for  kitchen  or  stable.  When  he  trav- 
eled he  must  have  the  finest  make  of  appurtenances, 
the  softest  rugs,  the  sturdiest  trunks,  all  kinds  of 

237 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

scents,  creams  and  powders  for  the  skin.  At  times 
he  was  lavish  to  extravagance,  and  yet  suddenly 
he  would  draw  the  lines  taut  on  himself,  become 
almost  austere,  and  criticise  me  for  failure  to  be 
economical.  He  seemed  always  extreme,  at  no  time 
and  in  no  way  holding  a  middle  course.  To  me, 
who  saw  things  with  a  soberer  eye,  it  was,  espe- 
cially in  my  unformed  salad  days,  difficult  to  follow 
his  zigzag  flights. 

That  he  loved,  admired,  and  overestimated  me, 
as  he  undoubtedly  did,  has  always  been  a  profound 
and  beautiful  mystery  to  me.  In  my  groping  time 
of  priggish  youth,  when  I  first  realized  this  extra- 
ordinary fondness  of  his  for  me,  I  thought  it  my 
duty  to  admonish,  lecture,  and  rebuke  him  in  a  mis- 
guided attempt  to  make  him  see  the  error  of  his 
ways  with  respect  to  betting  on  horses,  keeping 
racing  stables,  and  associating  with  the  doubtful 
characters  of  the  turf  —  trainers  and  jockeys,  trick- 
sters and  sports  —  who,  together  with  the  ward 
heelers,  bummers,  and  bosses  of  the  political  ring, 
had  a  peculiar  fascination  for  him.  The  psycholog- 
ical make-up  of  these  human  pages  amused  him, 
and  he  kept  up  the  study  of  them  nearly  to  the  end 
of  his  life,  very  much  to  his  detriment,  of  course, 
in  the  eyes  of  "  those  who  walked  so  straight,"  as  he 
used  to  put  it,  "  they  almost  fell  over  backward." 

238 


Dr.  Bernays  at  Home 

My  father  once  told  me  that  August  had  begged 
him  not  to  tell  me  of  any  escapade  or  trouble  he 
got  into,  saying  that  he  could  not  bear  to  lose  a  jot 
of  my  esteem  and  love.  In  the  course  of  the  years 
we  spent  together  I  became  so  accustomed  to  this 
warm  garment  of  affection  and  genial  fondness,  that 
surrounded  and  spoiled  and  coddled  me,  that  I 
never  thought  what  it  would  be  to  exist  without  it. 
Luckily  the  Doctor's  grand  and  noble  soul,  the 
abundance  of  delightful  gifts  with  which  nature  in 
a  bounteous  mood  had  endowed  him,  made  me 
early  accept  what  the  "  best  people "  criticised  in 
him  as  the  concomitant  defects  of  his  qualities.  Ac- 
cordingly I  gave  up  my  attempts  to  "  reform  "  him 
in  time  to  admit  of  the  real  and  close  companion- 
ship that  brightened  all  our  mature  years.  Though 
womanlike  and  particularly  sensitive  where  he  was 
concerned,  I  never  lost  the  dread  of  his  injuring 
himself  in  the  eyes  of  others  by  some  of  his  im- 
petuous speeches  and  incalculable  departures. 

When  we  were  not  together,  his  letters  —  nearly 
always  short,  staccato  notes  —  dashed  off  with  little 
attention  to  style,  punctuation,  or  punctiliousness  of 
any  kind,  came  with  great  frequency.  But,  op- 
posed as  I  am,  on  principle,  to  the  preservation  of 
family  letters,  I  usually  destroyed  them  shortly  after 
perusal.     A  few  of  them  were,  however,  preserved 

239 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

by  accident,  or  because  they  revealed  him  in  such 
a  lovable  mood  that,  in  his  absence,  I  could  not  bear 
to  part  with  the  visible  proof,  the  assurance,  and  out- 
ward sign  of  his  affection. 

Here  is  the  first  letter  I  received  from  him  in  the 
fall  of  1897,  when  I  had  established  myself  with 
a  part  of  the  family  at  Zurich. 

Saturday,  September  4,  1897. 
Dear  Thek: 

I  have  been  at  home  a  week,  and  this  is  the  first  moment 
I  have  felt  like  writing  to  you.  When  I  come  home  to  the 
house  and  walk  through  the  rooms,  it  does  not  seem  like 
home.  I  have  been  going  from  room  to  room,  upstairs  and 
downstairs,  like  a  headless  and  purposeless  being.  Every- 
thing is  getting  better,  though,  from  day  to  day,  and  I  have 
been  able  to  sleep  a  few  hours  in  one  of  the  two  beds  which  I 
have  in  my  rooms.  I  hope  gradually  to  get  to  feel  that  I  am 
at  home  when  I  enter  the  big  house,  which  has  lost  its  at- 
traction for  me  since  you  are  gone.  Wilson  is  living  with  us, 
and  is  a  very  good  boarder,  or  rather  roomer.  Rosie  is  doing 
all  I  ask  of  her,  and,  in  fact,  there  is  no  reason  for  me  to 
kick,  except  that  you  are  not  here.  There  has  been  an  enor- 
mous lot  of  work  for  me  to  do,  and  this  will  continue  to  im- 
prove, I  know,  in  quality,  if  not  in  quantity. 

We  received  a  telegram  from  the  steamship  company  on 
the  day  of  your  arrival,  and  are  now  waiting  for  a  letter  from 
you  to  hear  about  the  passage  you  had  and  the  company  there 
was  on  board.  I  suppose  Walter  understands  the  workings 
of  a  steamship,  and  can  demonstrate  in  figures  how  the  coal 
is  changed  into  heat  and  electricity  and  force,  so  as  to  do 
the  work  of  moving  the  big  tub  across  the  sea. 

Sir  Joseph   Lister  won  a  nice  race  on  fast  time   for  me 

240 


Dr.  Bernays  at  Home 

day  before  yesterday,  which  netted  me  $810.  Today  he  tries 
for  the  last  stake  of  the  meeting,  and  has  some  show  of  being 
in  the  money.     My  love  to  all,  and  I  hope  the  boys  will  work 

With    gOOd    results.  Vrmrc 

*ours'  Aug. 

The  wholly  unexpected  happened  when  I  had 
been  but  eight  months  in  Zurich.  The  Doctor,  who, 
except  for  an  accident  of  blood  poisoning  in  1884, 
had  always  enjoyed  buoyant  health,  fell  ill  of  some 
distemper,  about  the  nature,  the  name,  the  reason, 
and  the  treatment  of  which  his  various  medical 
friends  and  advisers  were  (as  is  usual  in  my  experi- 
ence of  such  things)  utterly  at  sea.  Autointoxica- 
tion, a  new  disease,  or  rather  a  new  name  for  an 
old  disease,  happened  to  be  on  the  professional  tapis 
for  detection,  diagnosis,  and  discussion  that  year  — 
so  that  was  the  favorite  imputation  applied  to  his 
trouble.  He  wrote  me  so  guardedly  and  reassur- 
ingly, however,  that  I  could  not  —  though  vaguely 
alarmed  —  realize  the  gravity  of  his  illness  until  in 
June  of  1898  he  came  to  me  in  Zurich,  and  was  for 
a" period  of  four  or  five  weeks  a  very  great  suf- 
ferer—  mostly  bed-ridden,  sometimes  sitting  pale, 
exhausted,  and  in  dread  of  pain  in  the  sun  on  the 
veranda,  or,  when  feeling  a  little  better,  on  a  seat  by 
the  shores  of  the  lovely  lake  when  a  rare,  warm 
day  of  that  chilly,  Swiss,  early  summer  permitted 
an  outing. 

241 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

Various  Swiss  medical  authorities  were  consulted, 
with  no  result.  Various  remedies  were  tried,  but 
the  pains  in  the  shoulder,  insomnia,  loss  of  flesh, 
temperature  persisted.  Finally  an  acquaintance  of 
mine,  a  Zurich  lady,  happened  to  call  one  afternoon, 
and  her  sympathetic  mention  of  a  Swiss  practitioner, 
Dr.  Seitz,  of  the  town,  so  pleased  and  impressed 
the  doctor  that  he  decided  to  send  for  this  man. 
Under  his  advice  and  simple  treatment  the  Doctor 
seemed  to  gain  immediately,  and  was  soon  able  to 
come  with  me  to  the  heights  of  the  Rigi,  near  by, 
where,  as  by  a  miracle,  he  entirely  recovered  in  the 
course  of  five  or  six  weeks.  The  distressing  pains 
and  disturbing  symptoms  left  him  as  mysteriously 
and  suddenly  as  they  had  come,  and  he  went  home 
restored  entirely,  as  shown  by  the  following  letters 
of  September  20th  and  28th  of  that  autumn. 

Dampfer  Bremen,  September  20. 
Dear  Thek: 

The  voyage  is  nearly  over.  We  will  be  landed  tomorrow 
morning  at  New  York.  As  you  see,  we  had  an  eleven-day 
voyage.  It  was  not  very  smooth.  I  was  troubled  with  mal 
de  mer  twice,  but  enjoyed  the  voyage  pretty  well. 

The  most  entertaining  person  on  board  was  Herr  Con- 
stantin  von  Sternberg.  He  conducts  a  conservatory  in  Phila- 
delphia. A  musician  and  a  very  high-class  artist.  He  has  the 
thing  down  fine,  and  for  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  heard  an 
explanation  of  the  difference  between  Wagner's  work  (not 
Wagner's  music)  and  that  of  the  other  writers  of  operas  who 
preceded   him.     He   says  that   the   drama  is   the  thing;   that 

242 


Dr.  Bernays  at  Home 

Wagner  did  not  try  to  write  music,  melody,  songs,  arias,  etc., 
but  that  these  are  extraneous,  and  are  used  only  to  make 
impressions  or  to  connect  different  parts  of  the  drama.  He 
speaks  with  scorn  of  the  Italian  operas,  and  can  beautifully 
demonstrate  on  a  piano  the  simple,  silly  structure  of  those 
operas.  He  says,  "  Gebildete  Menschen  gehen  hie  und  da  auch 
noch  in  derlei  Vorstellungen,  aber  nur  noch  selten."  I 
learned  a  lot  from  him  about  music  and  about  impressionism, 
symbolism,  and  the  other  modern  art  currents. 

There  were  no  other  first-rate  people  on  board,  but  a  lot 
of  nice,  pleasant  "  Dutzendmenschen."  My  neighbor  at  the 
table  was  the  ship's  physician,  a  fine  fellow  named  H.,  from 
Meissen,  whose  eight  direct  ancestors  were  clergymen.  He  is 
a  very  well-informed  man,  who  can  hold  his  own  anywhere, 
and  who  is  up  in  modern  surgery,  having  been  assistant  at 
Leipzig  and  at  Dresden.  He  is  quite  young — "noch  nicht  aus 
dem  Schneider."  By  the  way,  we  played  skat  a  good  deal, 
and  it  is  the  best  time-killer  I  know  of.  I  advise  you  not 
to  forget  it  entirely,  but  to  play  whenever  you  have  a  chance; 
it  is  the  game  of  games,  and,  although  all  games  "  kill "  time, 
you  will  find  that  this  game  can  not  be  learned  in  three  or  six 
months,  and  that  it  always  exercises  the  ingenuity  and  devel- 
ops the  acumen. 

As  to  my  health,  I  can  say  that  I  have  no  complaint,  that 
I  have  all  the  functions  in  a  normal  way,  and  that  I  think 
I  am  about  as  well  as  most  men  are  at  44.  I  have  reached 
my  normal  weight,  and  do  not  wish  to  gain  any  more  in  that 
direction.  I  have  taken  the  medicine  as  you  directed  up  to 
the  present  writing,  and  shall  continue  to  do  so  one  more  day, 
and  then  I  will  try  to  get  along  without  it.  In  case  I  need 
more,  I  suppose  I  will  have  the  indications  and  will  follow 
them. 

More  from  St.  Louis.  I  will  have  to  stop  in  New  York  or 
Hoboken  one  day.     My  love  to  all. 

Affectionately  yours, 

A.  C.  B. 

243 


Augustus  Charles  Beniays 

St.  Louis,  September  28,  1898. 
Dear  Thek: 

I  arrived  here  Friday  evening  last,  and  have  been  busy 
ever  since.  Have  operated  four  big  cases.  The  work  was 
well  done  —  up  to  my  best  form.  I  mention  that  because  you 
would  be  surprised  to  hear  the  stories  that  have  been  set 
afloat  here  about  me  —  that  I  had  a  cancer;  that  I  would 
never  return;  that,  if  I  did  return,  it  would  be  found  that  my 
hand  and  head  would  not  work  properly,  etc.  People  look  at 
me  and  are  astonished,  and  tell  me  that  they  had  heard  that 
I  had  gone  to  Zurich  to  have  my  stomach  taken  out,  and 
similar  stuff. 

I  am  in  splendid  health,  and  never  felt  better  in  my  life. 
I  found  business  matters  in  pretty  good  shape,  and  have  begun 
to  make  money.  In  a  month  or  six  weeks  my  debts  will  be 
paid  up,  and  then  I  can  begin  to  lay  up  a  few  dollars  for  future 
use. 

I  have  a  notion  that  my  sickness  will  in  the  end  prove  to 
be  rather  of  benefit  to  me  than  of  harm.  I  am  compelled  to 
lead  a  more  quiet  life,  and  I  find  that  I  can  do  so.  My  friends 
in  the  profession  are  sticking  to  me,  and  those  who  have  had 
others  to  operate  for  them  during  my  absence  are  the  ones 
who  are  most  glad  to  have  me  home  again. 

I  look  so  well  —  really  better  than  I  have  looked  for  years 
—  and  they  all  see  it  at  once,  and  are  quick  to  appreciate  the 
value  of  the  healthy  appearance  that  I  have.  Kelsoe  came 
to  see  me,  and  was  pleased  to  see  that  I  was  well. 

I  have  not  seen  G.,  nor  Miss  M.,  nor  the  H.'s,  but  no 
doubt  will  see  them  all  in  a  few  days.  Waldemar  Koch  came 
in  to  see  me  and  wanted  Walter's  address.  I  gave  him  No.  8 
Via  San  Basilio,  Rome.  He  says  he  has  found  a  new  com- 
pound, and  his  name  is  mentioned  somewhere  in  chemical 
annals.  That  is  what  I  want  Walter  to  get.  I  wrote  to  aunt 
Helene,  as  you  suggested.    Write  me  your  address  from  Flor- 

244 


Dr.  Bernays  at  Home 

ence,  and  write  some  articles  for  the  Westliche  Post  and  the 
Globe-Democrat. 

I  came  home  from  New  York  in  the  same  sleeper  with 
Mr.  H.,  of  the  Globe-Democrat.  He  expressed  himself  as  well 
pleased  with  your  contributions.  He  is  the  general  manager 
and  boss  in  the  G-D.  office.  What  he  says,  goes.  It  would 
have  been  a  good  scheme  for  you  to  have  been  in  Paris.  I 
rather  think  they  would  like  some  one  to  send  them  daily 
telegrams  from  the  proceedings  of  the  Peace  Commission  in 
Paris.  You  might  have  been  duly  accredited  by  letters  to  the 
gentlemen  composing  the  commission,  and,  being  able  to 
speak  French,  which  most  of  our  men  can  not,  it  would  have 
been  a  fine  position.  This  matter  can  possibly  be  fixed  up 
yet  if  you  write  at  once  about  it. 

Yours  always, 

A.  C.  B. 

Clem  and  Charley  are  0.  K.  The  house  is  in  good  order. 
Rosie  had  given  it  a  good  cleaning  up  because  she  had  ex- 
pected you  to  return  with  me. 

In  Zurich,  just  a  year  after  our  arrival  there, 
and  while  I  was  with  August  at  the  near-by  moun- 
tain resort,  Tantele  died,  aged  75.  She  had  been 
ailing  practically  all  her  life,  and  only  the  hot-house 
plant  life  she  led  preserved  her  to  the  ripe  age  which 
she,  who  had  not  been  expected  even  to  reach  adoles- 
cence, after  all  attained.  The  lovely  Zurich  spring, 
her  last  on  earth,  she  had  enjoyed  in  her  own  quiet 
way,  but  afterward,  during  that  cruel,  wet,  chilly 
summer,  with  August  so  ill  in  the  house,  it  became 

245 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

evident  that  she  was  failing.  The  chronic  bron- 
chitis which  had  racked  her  small  body  all  her  life, 
night  and  day,  and  finally  bent  her  poor  back  very 
much,  gave  her  hardly  any  respite.  Still,  the  young 
Swiss  doctor  who  had  treated  her  ever  since  we 
had  arrived  in  Zurich,  and  for  whom  she  had  con- 
ceived a  real  fondness,  assured  me  that  there  was 
no  immediate  peril,  and  that  I  might  accompany 
August  to  the  Rigi.  I  had,  indeed,  no  choice  in 
the  matter.  So,  leaving  conscientious  Walter  in 
charge,  we  departed,  with  strict  injunctions  that  I 
was  to  be  summoned  in  case  of  an  alarming  change. 
The  telegram  announcing  that  the  end  was  ap- 
proaching came  late  in  August.  But  death,  at  the 
last,  was  mercifully  abrupt,  and  before  I  could  reach 
her  from  the  near-by  mountain  she  had  breathed  her 
last.  She  also  was  reduced  to  a  handful  of  ashes, 
which  Walter  soon  after  placed  where  reposed  those 
to  whom  her  devotion  had  belonged  for  the  greater 
part  of  her  altogether  loving  life  —  in  the  grave 
of  our  parents  at  Heidelberg.  With  her  was  sev- 
ered the  last  link  that  bound  us  intimately  to  the 
previous  generation. 

The  winter  of  1898-99  scattered  the  European 
part  of  the  family.  Eric  was  placed  in  a  Swiss 
boarding  school,  Walter  went  to  Heidelberg,  and  I 
carried   out   a  long-cherished   plan   of   spending   a 

246 


Dr.  Bernays  at  Home 

winter  in  Italy.  April,  1899,  saw  me  speeding 
home,  however,  to  see  for  myself  whether  the  clean 
bills  of  health  I  was  receiving  from  the  Doctor  were 
in  no  wise  exaggerated. 

He  was,  indeed,  stronger  than  ever,  a  little  too 
heavy  perhaps,  but  full  of  life,  and  rejoicing  in  the 
plenitude  and  success  of  the  work  that  came  to  him, 
full  of  plans  and  hopes  for  the  future.  He  had 
promised  to  attend  a  medical  convention  in  Port- 
land, Oregon,  in  June,  and  thither  for  a  fortnight 
he  went.  There  he  read  his  paper  on  "  Pathology 
and  Therapy  of  Cancer,  with  Special  Reference  to 
Cancer  of  the  Stomach."  From  the  conclusions 
arrived  at  in  this  address,  delivered  twelve  years 
ago,  there  is,  I  think,  little  dissent  at  present. 
There  occurs  in  it  a  paragraph  which  I  wish  here 
to  reprint  in  order  to  show  fully  his  position  on 
this  momentous  question,  as  well  as  to  silence  those 
who  still  idly  and  cruelly  repeat  the  foolish  talk 
about  his  callousness  and  lack  of  proper  sympathy 
with  the  suffering  of  his  patients,  and  who  still  dwell 
on  his  "  unwarranted "  intrusion  into  sacred  do- 
mains of  the  body.     He  said : 

What  to  one  surgeon  might  appear  inaccessible  might  to 
another  be  perfectly  within  reach  of  the  knife  and  scissors. 
Only  he  who  has  seen  good  results  follow  extensive  and 
complete. extirpation  of  whole  regions  of  the  body,  large  parts 

247 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

of  the  intestinal  tract,  etc.,  will  have  the  inclination  to  do  this 
line  of  work. 

Each  surgeon  soon  learns  the  limitations  of  his  skill  if 
he  is  convinced  of  the  usefulness  of  extensive  extirpations 
of  cancerous  growths.  Every  once  in  a  while  he  will  have  a 
facer  when  a  patient  dies  of  shock  following  one  of  his  efforts 
to  save  a  life.  Deaths  of  this  kind  remind  us  of  our  limi- 
tations in  such  forcible  and  persistent  manner  that  we  are 
made  to  feel  the  responsibility  of  greatly  endangering  human 
life,  even  when  that  life  is  tainted  by  a  destructive  cancer.  I 
remember  at  this  moment  some  sleepless  nights  spent  in  going 
over  and  over  in  my  restless  brain  the  steps  of  a  fatal  opera- 
tion, trying  to  find  in  what  detail  of  the  work  I  might  have 
acted  differently,  perhaps  better;  how  I  might  have  saved  the 
patient  a  few  drops  of  his  impoverished  blood  had  I  acted 
otherwise;  how  it  might  have  been  better  if  perhaps  no  mor- 
phin  had  been  injected  before  the  anesthetic  was  given.  Thus 
a  thousand  more  or  less  fantastic  ideas  rack  one's  brain,  keep- 
ing away  sleep,  while  the  body  is  tossed  from  side  to  side, 
until,  the  problem  still  unsolved,  sleep  finally  comes  to  the 
relief  of  the  exhausted  organism.  A  few  nights  of  this  kind 
will  dampen  the  ardor  of  even  the  most  enthusiastic  operator, 
and,  unless  nature  has  fitted  him  for  the  work  by  giving  him 
strength,  and  such  nerves  and  organs  of  sense  as  will  enable 
him  to  stand  the  strain  of  hard  work  in  the  daytime  and  a 
sleepless  night  now  and  then,  he  will  abandon  surgery  and 
devote  himself  to  some  other  line  of  work  in  the  profession. 

On  his  return  from  Oregon  the  Doctor  accom- 
panied me  back  to  Switzerland,  where,  at  Adelboden 
in  the  Bernese  Alps,  we  went  to  a  family  meeting. 
This  was  interrupted  by  the  Doctor's  journeying 
to  Roncegno,  a  Tyrolese  resort  on  the  Italian  bor- 
der, to  see  and  give  an  opinion  on  a  strange  case  of 

248 


Dr.  Bernays  at  Home 

illness  in  a  relative.  Finding  himself  so  near  the 
land  which  I  was  never  weary  of  praising,  he  crossed 
the  border  in  the  merry  company  of  some  Ger- 
man cousins,  and  at  Venice  and  on  colorful  Lake 
Garda  received  impressions  so  strong  and  deep  that 
he  was  ever  after  most  eager  to  renew  them,  as  well 
as  to  extend  his  acquaintance  with  that  fairest  and 
most  entrancing  of  European  countries,  Brown- 
ing's lady-land. 

In  September  we  separated  once  more,  the  Doctor 
going  home,  after  persuading  me  to  spend  the  winter 
in  Berlin  instead  of  following  my  own  inclination 
for  more  of  Italy. 


249 


CHAPTER  XVI 
SOME  HABITS  AND  TRAITS 

Give  me  a  good  laugher. —  Walter  Scott. 

Knowing  what  people  read  and  how  they  read  gives  us 
precious  and  delicate  hints  as  to  their  character  and  conception 
of  life. —  From  the  French. 

The  Doctor  loved  to  read  reclining  at  full  length. 
He  seemed  to  relax  best  that  way  and  economize 
strength.  Every  evening  he  would  collect  what 
medical  literature  he  needed  for  his  "  lesson,"  as 
he  called  the  next  day's  work,  as  well  as  what  fitted 
in  with  his  mood  to  afterward  go  to  sleep  on.  His 
reading  was  scarcely  exclusive  of  any  human  inter- 
est. The  latest  novel,  if  it  had  vitality  and  person- 
ality, German  or  English  periodicals,  and  the  latest 
essays  on  science,  economics,  sport,  finance,  art, 
philosophy,  would  find  themselves  piled  up  on  one 
side  of  his  big  brass  bed,  together  with  medical  liter- 
ature. He  always  read  himself  to  sleep,  and  never 
by  any  chance  turned  out  the  light.  If,  once  in 
a  long  time,  I  failed  to  go  to  his  room  after  he 
slept,  the  morning  would  find  his  face  doubly  illu- 

250 


Some  Habits  and  Traits 

mined  by  the  artificial  as  well  as  the  natural  light 
streaming  into  the  room,  where  the  shades  were 
never  drawn. 

New  and  virile  thought,  original  presentation,  a 
lucid  and  forcible  style,  were  the  qualities  he  prized 
most  in  a  writer.  For  fine  writing,  and  the  tenuous 
and  finical  in  thought  and  sentiment,  he  had  not 
time  nor  inclination.  He  tried  only  once  to  pene- 
trate to  "  darkest  Henry  James."  Twice  he  at- 
tempted Edith  Wharton's  "  House  of  Mirth  "  and 
twice  abandoned  it.  Theme  and  treatment  of  this 
and  similar  books  seemed  equally  negligible  in  his 
eyes.  The  long-drawn  and  losing  fight  of  a  feeble 
fetish  worshiper  against  the  fetish  she  knew  in  her 
heart  to  be  such  —  the  inanity  of  the  exhibition  in 
contrast  to  the  stern  and  awful  realities  of  his  life 
work  —  wearied  and  bored  him. 

The  young  Kipling  made  immediate  appeal  to 
him.  It  was  the  tremendous  vitalizing  force  in  the 
man  that  made  the  Doctor  feel  him  as  kin.  His 
gift  of  endowing  animals  with  qualities  similar  to 
those  of  men,  as  in  "  The  Maltese  Cat,"  "  The 
Walking  Delegate,"  "  The  Jungle  Book,"  delighted 
the  Doctor,  as  did  his  masterful  way  of  creating  an 
atmosphere.  His  humor,  his  original  and  bold  use 
of  slang,  his  expert  handling  of  and  his  desperate 
expedients  in  situations  of  danger  to  life,  limb,  and 

251 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

reputation,  stirred  my  brother's  imaginative  sym- 
pathy. 

He  was  keenly  alive  to  the  beauty  of  Oscar 
Wilde's  diction,  and  to  the  piquancy  and  polish  of 
his  phrase.  No  less  was  his  joy  in  the  paradoxical 
and  quizzical  contrariness  of  Shaw.  He  was  fond 
of  epigrams,  and  would  not  admit  that  many  of 
them  failed  by  overstatement  or  limped  by  striving 
for  effect,  regardless  of  truth.  Perhaps  he  felt, 
with  Goethe,  that  he  had  enough  of  the  problematic 
within  himself,  and  liked  only  listening  to  the 
opinion  of  another  if  it  were  positively  expressed. 
He  himself  coined  aphorisms  with  pleasure,  and 
often  happily. 

When  he  most  needed  diversion  he  read  German 
novels  and  sketches.  Heyse,  Fontane,  Suder- 
mann,  and  Helene  Bohlau  brought  back  to  him 
scenes  and  environments  he  had  known  in  his  youth. 
For  the  same  reason  he  loved  Otto  Erich  Hartleben, 
the  perfect  workmanship  of  whose  prose  and  verse 
contrasts  so  curiously  with  the  career  of  this  strange 
citizen,  who,  impeccably  born  and  most  carefully 
reared,  lived  and  died  ever  on  the  outskirts  of  Bo- 
hemianism  —  der  ezvige  Student. 

Eckstein's  solitary  bull's  eye,  "  Im  Career,"  he 
read  innumerable  times.  To  every  one  it  is  howl- 
ingly  funny  the  first  time  it  is  read  or  heard.     If 

252 


Some  Habits  and  Traits 

well  recited,  it  can  be  endured  a  second  time.  But 
the  Doctor,  one  hot  summer,  carried  "  Im  Career  " 
in  a  Reclam  edition  in  his  coat  pocket,  and  for  a 
number  of  consecutive  evenings,  as  the  family  got 
comfortably  settled  on  the  lawn  after  dinner,  he 
would  bring  it  forth  and  begin  to  read  it  aloud. 
We  enjoyed  it  once,  and  relished  his  enjoyment  of 
it  a  second,  and  even  bore  with  it  a  third  time,  but 
after  that,  when  he  tried  to  inflict  it  again  and 
again,  we  rebelled  and  proceeded  to  muzzle  him. 
For  a  fortnight  he  persisted  in  his  attempts  to  make 
us  swallow  the  dose,  laughing  until  he  bent  double 
•-T-  partly  at  the  story,  but  still  more  at  our  indigna- 
tion and  denunciation  of  his  tantalizing  pertinacity. 
Tantele  was  especially  emphatic  in  her  protests,  and 
scolded  him  in  exactly  the  tone  she  had  used  when 
he  had  been  a  naughty  little  boy  in  the  long  ago  of 
his  Lebanon  boyhood,  which,  of  course,  threw  him 
and  the  rest  of  us  into  renewed  spasms  of  mirth. 
He  was  always  a  good  laugher.  As  one  of  our 
household  expressed  it,  "  He  would  see  the  point  of 
a  story  instantly,  and  always  laughed  most  heartily, 
but  an  anecdote  he  himself  was  telling  never  seemed 
finished  to  him  until  he  was  convinced  that  even  the 

d est  fool  in  the  crowd  saw  every  possible  bit 

of  humor  in  connection  with  it.  But  one  who  did 
not  love  him   as  we  did  could  hardly  appreciate 

253 


Augustus  Charles  Bemays 

how  funny  it  was  to  us  to  have  him  draw  a  diagram, 
with  bits  of  the  story  repeated,  for  illustration." 

Full  many  an  anecdote  did  he  mangle  in  the  tell- 
ing that  way,  or  by  laughing  before  his  auditors 
got  a  chance  to  do  so,  or,  still  worse,  by  going  off 
into  a  dream  in  the  midst  of  it,  with  the  threads 
all  dangling.  He  was  too  good-natured  to  mind  our 
side  remarks,  interjections,  and  aspersions  abun- 
dantly cast  on  his  delinquencies  as  a  raconteur. 
Often  he  would  think  of  an  ancedote  just  as  the 
roast  or  fowl  was  brought  in  and  placed  before 
him  to  be  carved.  He  was  an  artist  at  carving,  if 
not  at  story-telling,  and  many  a  time,  when  there 
were  guests  and  he  would  pause,  knife  in  air,  to 
begin  a  tale,  significant  imploring  looks  and  em- 
phatic little  kicks  under  the  table  would  be  aimed  at 
him,  trying  to  make  him  desist  —  rarely  with  suc- 
cess. 

He  enjoyed  and  would  tell  a  joke  on  himself, 
utterly  oblivious  or  careless  of  the  light  it  threw 
on  his  own  infirmities  and  offenses.  He  once  came 
back  from  a  visit  in  California,  where  he  had  made 
acquaintance  with  a  seven-year-old  nephew,  whom 
he  described  as  a  "  perfect  little  Lord  Fauntleroy, 
punctilious  in  his  grammar  and  fastidious  as  to  his 
manners."  When  the  Doctor,  coming  into  his  sister 
Lily's  house  from  a  walk  one  day,  threw  himself, 

254 


Some  Habits  and  Traits 

with  a  carelessly  worded  question  and  without  re- 
moving his  hat,  into  a  chair,  this  boy,  in  a  scandal- 
ized stage  whisper  was  heard  to  remark,  "  Mamma, 
Uncle  August  keeps  his  hat  on  in  the  house  and 
says  '  ain't'  "  He  gleefully  repeated  the  reproof  he 
got  from  the  child,  and  enjoyed  the  humor  of  it, 
without  seeming  in  the  least  to  mind  that  it  cast 
an  unenviable  reflection  on  his  own  decorum. 

Naturally  he  did  not  draw  the  line  at  the  broad 
or  perhaps  even  at  the  unseemly  and  coarse  in 
humor.  The  medical  profession  for  obvious  rea- 
sons rarely  does.  I  have  been  shown  a  printed 
document,  said  to  have  been  written  by  him,  and 
smuggled  by  a  humorous  friend  who  was  secretly 
in  sympathy  with  him  into  the  very  precincts  where 
the  St.  Louis  Medical  Society  was  holding  one  of 
its  farcical  and  owlish  "  Vehmgerichte  "  over  some 
member  so  lacking  in  temperament  as  to  submit 
to  the  medieval  rite  of  being  "  investigated  "  for 
violation  of  the  code  of  ethics.  The  document  is 
not  merely  Shavian,  but  Rabelaisian,  in  its  reckless 
and  riotous  irony,  in  its  personal  handling  without 
gloves  of  every  "  big  bug"  of  the  solemn  set,  in  its 
calling  every  spade  a  spade,  and  in  its  playing  high 
jinks  with  each  man's  pet  panacea,  darling  vice, 
or  absurd  shortcoming.  It  holds  the  whole  insti- 
tution up  to  ridicule  because  of  its  unscientific  at- 

255 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

titude,  its  ignorance  of  modern  progressive  meth- 
ods, the  reduction  of  its  members  to  the  absurdity 
of  mutual  admiration,  its  blinking  contentedly  over 
the  tallow-candle  achievements  of  its  slow  and  sleepy 
leaders  in  the  guarded  twilight  of  their  code  of 
ethics,  when  outside  there  blazes  the  great  and  glori- 
ous sun  of  free  science. 

A  reproach  frequently  addressed  to  him  was  that 
he  had  not  tact.  If  tact  is  the  faculty  of  saying  the 
right  thing  to  the  right  man  at  the  right  moment, 
like  most  honest  men  he  had  it  sometimes  and 
lacked  it  at  others.  Often  it  showed  itself  in  him 
in  so  subtly  refined  a  form  that  it  escaped  the 
grosser  senses  of  the  multitude.  With  the  delicacy 
of  a  sensitive  woman,  he  could,  at  the  crucial  mo- 
ment, do  the  exquisite  thing  that  soothed,  perceiving 
a  hurt  that  others  did  not  see.  How  often  he  laid  a 
rose-leaf  on  a  cat's  scratch  or  on  a  hat-pin  prick 
disloyally,  maliciously  inflicted  on  me!  But  tact, 
in  the  sense  in  which  the  word  is  employed  by  the 
social  climber,  he  assuredly  had  not.  He  was  ob- 
tuse even  to  the  glaring  truth  that  the  sense  of  hu- 
mor is  a  movable  feast,  which  never  coincides  with 
wounded  self-love.  Several  people  have  told  me 
since  his  death  how  he  forfeited  the  good-will  of 
a  multimillionaire,  whom  he  genuinely  liked  and 
admired,    by    obliviousness    of   just   this    fact.     It 

256 


Some  Habits  and  Traits 

seems  that  he  approached  this  magnate  one  day  in 
public,  and  related  with  greatest  animation  and 
gusto  how  that  morning  he  had  amputated  a  poor 
fellow's  leg  with  such  skill  and  dispatch  that  the 
patient  lost  scarcely  a  teaspoonful  of  blood.  Then, 
with  entire  and  cheerful  confidence  in  the  multi's 
seeing  the  point  from  the  right  angle,  he  added, 
"What  a  pity  it  was   a  poor  man's  leg!     Now, 

if   it   had   been   yours,    Mr.   ,    I    might   have 

charged  $20,000  for  the  job." 

As  if  a  multi  necessarily  enjoyed  seeing  his  sacred 
person  and  almost  equally  sacred  bank  account  muti- 
lated to  the  greater  glory  of  a  rising  young  surgeon ! 

After  his  death  one  of  the  numerous  obituaries 
that  appeared,  speaking  of  the  idiosyncrasies  of  his 
character,  accused  him  of  this  fault  —  tactlessness 
—  and  attributed  it  to  his  bachelordom.  Have  hus- 
bands a  mortgage  on  tact?  Not  that  the  chasten- 
ing and  subduing  effects  of  matrimony  are  to  be 
denied,  but,  like  all  other  educational  devices,  it 
can  but  build  on  a  foundation  found.  The  Doctor 
lacked  the  organ  for  the  conventional  distinctions. 
He  was  and  always  remained  an  enfant  terrible, 
who  saw  and  admitted  some  of  his  blunders  after 
the  fact  and  went  forth  and  committed  others. 
Seeing  all  men  equal  before  death  and  disease,  see- 
ing them  all  prone  to  indulgence  that  entails  suf- 

257 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

fering,  and  many  of  them  sore  afraid  and  most 
unheroic  under  his  care,  tended  to  obliterate  the 
artificial  props  with  which  humanity  holds  up  its 
dignity,  made  him  oblivious  or  scornful  of  the  rags 
in  which  this  "  virtue  " —  so  superfluous  in  his  eyes 

—  parades.  A  man  with  his  power,  magnetism, 
self-confidence,  with  the  crash  in  his  ears  of  the 
idols  he  is  helping  to  fell,  is  never  at  the  same  time 
a  diplomatist,  adjusting  his  mantle  to  the  wind. 
Of  the  tact  that  is  a  species  of  cowardice,  a  desire 
to  leave  doubtful  things  in  a  tepid  obscurity,  where 
the  microbes  of  authority  breed  best,  he  was  in- 
deed innocent.  If  matrimony  could  have  provided 
him  with  that  species  of  tact,  made  of  him  a  man 
fearing  to  speak  his  mind,  if  it  could  have  degraded 
him  to  the  rank  of  the  good  provider  —  the  tame 
cat  about  the  house,  the  anxious  soul  that  hides 
his  conviction  lest  he  make  enemies  —  then  I  am 
glad  he  never  married.  After  all,  the  wife  that 
remains  an  inspiration  to  her  husband  is  a  rare 
bird.     The  anxiety  for  the  nest  and  the  nestlings 

—  if  not  the  desire  for  social  prestige  —  makes  her 
reluctant  to  enter  heartily  into  the  spirit  of  his  work, 
and  unwilling  to  let  him  pay  the  terrible  price  of 
independence.  The  greatest  thought  of  the  world 
and   its  most  daring  and    far-reaching  action  has 

258 


Some  Habits  and  Traits 

been  accomplished  by  men  free  of  the  yoke.  Vita 
conjugalis  altos  et  generosos  spiritus  frangit  et  a 
magnis  capitationibus  ad  hiimillimas  detrahit  is  still 
true. 

Half  in  jest  and  half  in  earnest,  many  of  the 
doctor's  friends  laid  his  celibacy  at  my  door.  He 
sometimes  teasingly  supported  the  suspicion  they 
expressed  —  that  I  made  a  pleasant  home  for  him 
from  the  selfish  motive  of  keeping  him  from  mar- 
riage. Yet,  excepting  in  one  instance,  when  my 
father  earnestly  besought  me  to  dissuade  August 
from  an  alliance  he  seemed  to  be  contemplating, 
I  never  interfered  with  his  attentions  to  any  lady. 
In  that  particular  instance  I  acted  on  my  father's 
urgent  solicitations.  Sufficient  to  say  that  August, 
later,  was  supremely  content  that  he  had  escaped 
that  particular  yoke.  Only  in  the  negative  sense, 
inasmuch  as  I  never  engaged  in  match-making,  can 
I  be  made  answerable  for  my  brother's  failure  to 
marry.  To  assume  in  a  measure  the  mask  of  des- 
tiny, and  claim  a  foreknowledge  of  soul  affinities,  is 
a  species  of  arrogance  with  which  nature  has  not 
endowed  me. 

Certainly  he  was  no  misogynist,  as  he  was  some- 
times called  toward  the  end  of  his  life.  No  man 
less  than  he.     He  simply  did  not  take  the  time  to 

259 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

go  a-wooing.  In  his  younger  days  he  used  to  say 
that  he  would  some  day  marry  on  the  spur  of  the 
moment,  and  bring  home  his  bride  to  take  her  place 
at  the  family  hearth  as  it  stood,  garnished  with 
sister  and  brothers.  I  do  not  believe  he  ever  ac- 
tually put  the  question  that  way,  but,  if  he  did,  I 
can  not  blame  the  lady  he  may  have  addressed  for 
spurning  an  offer  so  qualified. 

Perhaps  the  loss  of  such  good  material  for  a  hus- 
band was  deplorable,  inasmuch  as  he  left  no  prog- 
eny which  might  have  inherited  his  talents.  Per- 
haps the  restraining  influences  of  wife  and  children 
could  have  quenched  his  love  of  excitement  and 
thus  prolonged  his  life  and  usefulness.  Perhaps! 
Yet,  if  he  had  had  other  domestic  relations,  his 
"  tact "  might  have  been  developed  at  the  expense 
of  his  originality,  power,  and  genuineness. 

Bluster  and  brusqueness  were  sometimes  assumed 
to  tide  him  over  emotion  he  did  not  care  to  show. 
The  less  a  person  amounted  to  in  the  eyes  of  the 
world,  the  more  careful  and  gentle  and  sparing 
was  he.  With  stupidity  and  clumsiness  in  his  own 
profession  he  did  not  have  much  patience,  it  is 
true  —  that  exception  to  his  tolerance  proceeded 
from  intolerance  and  zeal  in  the  interest  of  the 
many.  He  hated  to  see  a  would-be  surgeon  con- 
stitutionally deficient  in  dexterity,  or  painfully  near- 

260 


Some  Habits  and  Traits 

sighted,  or  slow  in  his  mental  processes,  and  he  had 
no  hesitation  in  saying  that  men  so  scantily  favored 
by  nature  encumbered  the  profession. 

His  vivid  imagination  supplied  him  with  the 
rarest  tact  —  that  of  putting  himself  in  the  place  of 
the  suffering  and  their  family  —  and  spurred  him 
on  to  do  as  much  good  as  was  possible,  even  though 
his  motives  were  subject  to  misunderstanding. 

To  operate  in  order  to  give  temporary  relief  and 
the  semblance  of  betterment  in  a  well-nigh  hopeless 
case,  especially  to  secure  for  a  mother  a  respite  and 
a  hope,  a  brief  improvement  in  the  condition  of  her 
child,  he  considered  his  sacred  duty,  though  to  re- 
fuse such  cases  would  have  been  sparing  of  his 
reputation  and  merciful  to  himself. 

It  was  generally  conceded  that  Dr.  Bernays  had 
humor,  and  as  generally  charged  that  he  had  no 
tact.  Yet,  as  I  see  it  and  as  I  have  endeavored  to 
explain,  he  had  tact  in  its  most  sublimated  form 
where  it  was  most  needed,  had  it  where  it  supported 
and  supplemented  his  highest  ideals,  had  it  where  it 
benefited  others,  though  it  harmed  himself.  He 
used  to  say  that  he  was  his  own  worst  enemy,  by 
which  he  meant  that  he  lacked  the  smooth,  con- 
ciliatory, serpentine  manner,  the  tact,  that  saves  its 
own  skin,  ever  tacking  and  veering,  bargaining  with 
and   dodging   around   cold    facts.     When    it   came 

261 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

to  the  Doctor's  master  passion,  as  is  shown  in  the 
anecdote  of  the  multimillionaire  and  the  amputated 
leg,  he  even  lacked  humor,  forgetting  to  put  himself 
in  the  other  man's  place. 


262 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE  YEARS  1900-1904 

A  man  behind  the  times  is  apt  to  speak  ill  of  them  on  the 
principle  that  nothing  looks  well  from  behind. —  O.  W.  Holmes. 

Show  me  the  man  you  honor.  I  know  by  that  symptom 
better  than  by  any  other  what  kind  of  a  man  you  are  yourself, 
for  you  show  me  what  your  ideal  of  manhood  is,  what  kind 
of  a  man  you  long  to  be. —  Carlyle. 

Berlin,  in  spite  of  the  Doctor's  preference  for  it, 
failed  to  hold  me.  It  gave  me  sore  eyes  in  more 
than  the  merely  physical  sense.  Late  in  January, 
1900,  I  fled  to  Rome.  Hardly  arrived  there,  I  re- 
ceived a  letter  from  the  Doctor  with  the  startling 
announcement  that  he  was  going  to  South  Africa 
in  charge  of  an  ambulance  corps  for  the  care  of  the 
wounded  Boers.  He  had  insured  his  life  for  a  large 
sum  for  my  benefit,  and  had  obtained  permission 
from  the  insurance  company  to  engage  in  the  ven- 
ture. Clippings  from  the  papers  of  February,  1900, 
mention  Dr.  Thomas  O'Reilly  and  Mr.  Adolphus 
Busch  as  the  promoters  of  the  undertaking.  There 
seems  at  first  to  have  been  so  much  enthusiasm  on 

263 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

the  subject  that  my  brother  was  sure  all  minor  de- 
tails could  be  arranged.  Dr.  O'Reilly,  always  one 
of  his  staunchest  friends,  is  quoted  as  saying  that 
"  the  St.  Louis  ambulance  corps  would  be  superior 
to  that  of  any  other  that  was  going  or  had  gone  to 
South  Africa,  inasmuch  as  it  would  be  in  charge 
of  the  greatest  surgeon  this  age  has  seen,  only  the 
famous  Robert  Liston  comparing  with  him  in  skill 
with  the  knife."  The  project  was  not,  however, 
carried  out,  the  secretary  of  the  committee,  Mr.  C. 
Moloney,  wrote  me  after  the  Doctor's  death,  "  for 
the  reason  that,  while  the  British  had  established 
supply  camps  on  our  soil  without  interference,  the 
dominating  party  in  this  country,  though  indifferent 
at  the  time  to  the  shipment  of  mules  and  munition 
of  war  to  the  British  in  South  Africa,  was  not  will- 
ing to  permit  the  violation  of  the  neutrality  laws  of 
the  United  States  even  for  the  freedom  of  the 
Boers." 

The  Boer  cause,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  England, 
where  my  brother  had  many  friends,  was  the  ad- 
versary, aroused  the  habitual  sympathy  he  enter- 
tained for  the  under  dog.  It  was  thoroughly  in 
keeping  with  his  temperament  to  espouse  a  forlorn 
cause.  He  burned  to  right  the  injustice  of  the 
insufficient  equipment  for  the  care  of  their  wounded 
from  which  the  Boers  were  suffering,  whereas  their 

264 


The  Years  1900-1904 

rich  opponents  could  give  every  comfort  of  camp 
and  hospital  to  their  own  unfortunates. 

In  every  struggle  that  took  place  during  his  life- 
time his  heart  went  out  to  the  side  which  made  for 
larger  liberty,  which  had  in  it  the  elements  of  ulti- 
mate progress,  however  inexpedient  the  fight  for 
these  ideals  might  seem  at  the  time.  The  mani- 
festation itself  and  the  feeling  that  prompted  it 
was  a  step  in  advance,  and  there  was  glory  and 
satisfaction  in  battling  for  big  things.  He  could 
seem  cruel  as  nature  herself  when  he  foresaw  and 
gloated  over  the  downfall  of  a  party  or  nation 
that  stood  for  prejudice  and  tyranny,  and  he  could 
be  a  Don  Quixote  in  his  chivalrous  championing 
of  an  ideal  or  a  gladiator  of  the  morituri,  saluting 
with  fine  scorn  some  temporary  emperor  who,  vic- 
torious, was  beaten  in  the  spiritual  sense. 

Jubilant  over  the  result  of  the  Japanese-Chinese 
war  of  1895,  he  knew  a  few  years  later  that  the 
onmarch  of  invincible  evolutionary  forces  doomed 
Spain.  He  was  one  of  the  few  who  saw  in  1904 
that  the  colossus  Russia,  in  hypnotic  myopia,  was 
mistaking  its  own  clay  feet  for  a  solid  foundation, 
and  that  the  great  empire  would  totter  before  the 
nimble  modernity  of  the  little  yellow  people,  who 
had  been  quick  to  adopt  and  adapt  from  every  nation 
of  the   Occident  what  the  special   genius   of  each 

265 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

had  evolved  in  political,  strategic,  industrial,  and 
scientific  endeavor.  Shortly  before  his  death  he 
was  watching  with  eagerness  the  internal  struggles 
caused  in  France  by  the  transfer  of  education  from 
the  hands  of  the  clergy  into  those  of  the  civic 
authorities.  The  temporary  hardships  and  the  inci- 
dental injustice  such  a  huge  readjustment  entailed 
he  felt  as  the  necessary  accessories  of  the  change 
which  the  present  generation  had  to  bear,  so  that 
medieval  forms  of  education  need  not  be  inflicted 
on  future  ones.  Large-hearted  and  wide-viewed 
always,  he  truly  lived  up  to  the  words  of  his  brother- 
in-arms,  Robert  Ingersoll,  whom  he  had  personally 
known  and  greatly  admired  —  words  that,  under 
the  heading,  "  My  Creed,"  printed  in  large  type, 
he  had  had  framed  and  hung  in  his  bedroom, 
where  night  and  morning  his  eyes  first  fell  on  them. 
These  are  the  words : 

My  Creed. 

To  love  justice,  to  long  for  the  right,  to  love  mercy,  to 
pity  the  suffering,  to  assist  the  weak,  to  forget  wrongs  and 
remember  benefits ;  to  love  the  truth,  to  be  sincere,  to  utter 
honest  words,  to  love  liberty,  to  wage  relentless  war  against 
slavery  in  all  its  forms,  to  love  wife  and  child  and  friend,  to 
make  a  happy  home ;  to  love  the  beautiful  in  art,  in  nature ;  to 
cultivate  the  mind ;  to  be  familiar  with  the  mighty  thoughts 
that  genius  has  expressed,  the  noble  deeds  of  all  the  world; 
to  cultivate  courage  and  cheerfulness,  to  make  others  happy; 

266 


The  Years  1900-1904 

to  fill  life  with  the  splendor  of  generous  acts,  the  warmth  of 
loving  words;  to  discard  error,  to  destroy  prejudice,  to  receive 
new  truths  with  gladness,  to  cultivate  hope ;  to  see  the  calm 
beyond  the  storm,  the  dawn  beyond  the  night;  to  do  the  best 
that  can  be  done,  and  then  to  be  resigned. 

R.  G.  Ixgersoll. 
Dr.  A.  C.  Bernays. 

Acute  and  original  mentality,  combined  with 
courage  and  combativeness,  attracted  my  brother 
irresistibly.  Wherever  he  found  these  traits  — 
whether  in  long-dead  heroes  and  martyrs  to  causes 
of  enlightenment,  or  in  personages  of  his  own  time 
(Ingersoll,  Henry  George,  Bryan,  Harden,  Reedy, 
Meriwether) — he  fraternized  with  them  and  gloried 
in  them.  The  sympathy  he  had  for  these  com- 
rades-in-arms broke  out  on  the  oddest  occasions 
and  took  form  in  the  strangest  manifestations. 
Whoever  used  poetry  like  Shelley  or  the  drama  like 
Ibsen,  Wilde,  Shaw,  and  the  modern  Germans,  or 
philosophy  like  Schopenhauer,  Nietzsche,  Spencer,* 
as  battering-rams  against  ignorance  and  vapid 
authority,  was  brother  and  friend  to  him.  More 
than  that,  he  was  given  a  niche  in  the  spiritual 
Walhalla  the  Doctor  had  constructed  in  his  soul  for 
warriors  that  had  died  in  seeking  and  defending  his 
holy  grails  —  scientific  truth  and  liberty  of  thought 
and  word.  According  to  rites  of  his  own,  invented 
on    the    impulse    of   the   moment,    he    figuratively 

267 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

burned  incense  before  the  effigies  of  these  when  he 
came  across  them.  As  once  when  we  were  in  Rome 
together.  It  was  in  the  early  autumn  of  1905. 
There  was  to  be  an  illumination  of  the  Coliseum 
with  Bengal  flames.  I  had  seen  the  spectacle  be- 
fore, and  thought  the  wonderful  light  effects  in  the 
great  ruins  would  delight  him.  To  my  surprise,  he 
refused  to  accompany  me,  and  arranged  that  I  was 
to  go  with  some  chance  acquaintances.  About  the 
disposition  of  his  own  evening  he  was  most  mys- 
terious, and  not  until  months  afterward  did  he 
divulge  how  he  had  employed  it.  There  stands  in 
the  Eternal  City,  amidst  its  five  hundred  churches, 
not  far  from  one  of  the  papal  buildings  (Bramante's 
famous  Cancelleria),  in  the  Campo  de  Fiori,  a 
statue  of  the  renegade  Dominican  monk,  Giordano 
Bruno,  who  dared  to  think  and  to  speak  out  his 
thoughts  in  opposition  to  the  beliefs  of  the  church, 
who  refused  to  recant  what  he  knew  was  truth,  and 
for  his  heterodox  opinions  and  teachings  was 
burned  at  the  stake  on  that  spot  in  the  year  1600. 
On  that  September  night  the  Doctor  engaged  a  cab 
for  several  hours,  and,  after  having  had  a  number 
of  the  sordid  little  Italian  bills  changed  into  still 
more  sordid  and  less  commodious  coppers  until  he 
had  a  hatful  of  "  soldi,"  he  drove  from  the  Hotel 
Quirinale,  where  we  were  stopping,  to  the  Campo 

268 


The  Years  1900-1904 

de  Fiori.  He  had  not  much  Italian,  but  he  man- 
aged to  instruct  the  coachman  as  well  as  to  interest 
him  in  the  private  homage  he  had  come  to  do 
his  hero,  "  a  great,  a  very  great  Italian."  Arrived 
near  the  statue,  they  collected  at  first  a  small 
knot  of  street  urchins  and  what  other  loungers  they 
found  in  the  piazza,  and  induced  them  by  means  of 
"  soldi  "  to  shout  at  the  top  of  their  voices,  "  Evviva 
Giordano  Bruno ! "  Soon  more  people,  attracted 
by  the  hubbub  and  noise,  gathered  to  find  out  what 
was  going  on.  They  saw  an  "  Americano  "  stand- 
ing up  in  a  cab  and  throwing  soldi  among  those 
who  were  shouting,  "  Evviva  Giordano  Bruno ! ,! 
Concluding  that  he  must  be  both  "  pazzo  "  (crazy) 
and  "molto  ricco  "  (very  rich),  they  joined  lustily 
in  the  cry.  Conviction  may  not  have  had  so  much 
to  do  with  their  readiness  to  take  up  the  slogan  of 
the  evening  as  lust  of  soldi,  imitativeness,  and  the 
spirit  of  the  mob.  Enough  —  the  crowd  shouted 
this  defi  to  Catholicism  as  long  as  the  Americano  de- 
sired such  service.  Several  times  the  coachman  was 
sent  out  for  more  change  until  at  last  the  Doctor's 
thirst  for  martyr  worship  was  appeased.  Then, 
cheered  by  this  little  demonstration  of  his  very  own, 
he  drove  home  and  quietly  crept  into  bed.  It  was 
with  cordial  enjoyment,  equaling  the  childlike  de- 
light he  evidently  had  felt  in  the  little  jest  a  of  his 

269 


Augustas  Charles  Bernays 

devising,  that  he  used  at  home  to  relate  the  story 
of  this  serio-comic  expedition.  The  telling  of  it 
was  all  the  funnier  for  the  babyish  way  in  which 
he  sounded  the  Italian  words  he  was  obliged  to  use 
that  night.  When  he  mixed  his  slight  Italian  freely 
with  French  and  Latin,  and  pronounced  his  home- 
made words  very  carefully,  it  was  impossible  not 
to  laugh.  Once  or  twice  he  told  it  at  Sunday  night 
tea  when  there  were  guests,  and  there  was  vocifer- 
ous hilarity,  in  which  he  joined.  And  yet,  as  I 
think  of  it  now,  there  was  in  this  action  something 
touching  and  sweet,  and  something  deep-rooted, 
that  linked  the  philosopher,  who  chose  to  be  burned 
at  the  stake  rather  than  revoke,  to  all  that  was  noble 
and  strong  and  great  in  this  life  —  linked  it  to  his 
own  undaunted  will  to  know,  to  reveal,  to  serve 
scientific  truth  at  any  cost. 

We  traveled  a  great  deal  during  the  last  ten 
years  of  the  Doctor's  life.  Usually  I  went  with 
him,  and  usually  our  voyages  were  to  Europe, 
where  we  revisited  the  old  haunts  or  made  acquaint- 
ance with  regions  we  had  not  known  before.  Ger- 
many continued  her  upward  progress.  Politically, 
industrially,  economically,  the  Doctor  saw  his  grand- 
mother country  change  from  the  poverty,  simplic- 
ity, and  humility  which  were  formerly  her  distin- 
guishing features  to  a  position  of  wealth,  impor- 

270 


The  Years  ipoo-1904 

tance,  and  pride,  disputing  the  hegemony  with 
Albion  herself.  In  his  heart  of  hearts  he  attributed 
the  leadership  she  was  winning  to  her  devotion  to, 
her  preeminence  in  science.  He  gloried  in  this  tri- 
umph of  his  religion.  Science  to  him  included  all 
possibilities.  It  had  the  true  idea  of  eternity  be- 
cause it  proclaimed  the  constant  flow  and  interac- 
tion of  living  forces  —  evolution.  It  set  up  no 
truth,  no  revelation  from  man-made  supergod  to 
demigod  or  superman,  no  creed  that  in  its  very  ar- 
resting of  development  contained  the  germ  of  death, 
but  taught  a  gradual  unfolding  of  life  forces  which, 
even  in  destroying,  build  up  and  make  for  growth. 
Germany,  he  felt,  had  during  his  lifetime  contribu- 
ted more  than  any  other  nation  to  the  recognition 
of  the  laws  that  underlie  this  eternal  becoming. 
That  he  had  been  an  eager  worker  in  the  band 
which  had  given  spirit-liberating  science  this  tre- 
mendous impetus  was  his  chief  pride  and  glory  in 
living.  With  the  mixture  of  modesty  and  con- 
sciousness of  worth  that  was  one  of  his  most  in- 
teresting traits,  the  last  sentence  of  the  will  he 
wrote  on  May  12,  1904,  the  day  before  we  departed 
for  Japan,  reads : 

In  closing,  I.  will  say  that  I  have  not  done  as  much  good 
on  this  earth  as  I  might  have  done,  but  I  feel  and  know  that 
many  pupils  and  many  other  persons  with  whom  I  have  been 

271 


Augustus  Charles  Bemays 

in  close  relations,  as  well  as  the  science  and  art  of  surgery, 
have  been  promoted  by  my  work. 

A.  C.  Bernays. 

Modest  and  proud  at  the  same  time  I  call  this 
sentence,  because  it  does  not  even  mention  the  prac- 
tical and  direct  service  to  thousands   of  sufferers 
who  owed  him  life  and  health,  but  dwells  only  on 
that  part  of  his  work  wherein  lies  the  promise  of 
immortality  —  his  teaching  and  his  promotion  of 
surgery.     Yet,  to  others  such  un-Saxon  unreserve 
as  this  is  hateful,  and  the  Doctor  was  frequently 
censured  for  his  "  egotism."     A  string  of  stories 
illustrative  of  his  na'ive  expressions  of  self-esteem 
are   current.     One  contributed  by  Dr.   Bartlett  is 
typical.     "  Shortly  after  I  had  become  his  assistant 
in   1893,  as  we  were  driving  home  one  day  after 
performing  a   difficult   operation   in   which   I   had 
helped  him,  just  as  we  were  turning  into  Vande- 
venter  Place,  he  said,  i  Bartlett,  you'll  make  a  sur- 
geon.'    Then,    after    a   moment's    hesitation,    '  but 
you  will  never  make  a  surgeon  like  Dr.  Bernays.'  ' 
But  no  man  was  freer  than  he  from  envy  and  jeal- 
ousy, and  none  readier  than  he  to  acknowledge  sig- 
nal  distinction.     Neither  was    it   lukewarm,    half- 
hearted approbation  he  gave.     On  the  contrary,  he 
lavished  unstinted,  almost  immoderate,  admiration 
in   accordance    with   his   exuberant   and   impulsive 

2J2 


The  Years  1900-1904 

nature.  If,  as  La  Rochefoucauld  says,  "  it  is  a  sign 
of  mediocrity  to  praise  with  moderation,"  then, 
conversely,  to  commend  unmeasuredly  must  be  an 
indication  of  height  of  personal  attainment.  Dur- 
ing his  last  years,  when  he  knew  himself  to  be  fail- 
ing in  health,  instead  of  looking  askance  at  "  the 
generation  that  was  knocking  at  the  doors,"  this 
master  builder  opened  wide  to  it  all  the  entrances 
and  opened  wider  his  arms  and  his  heart.  Most 
lovingly  he  welcomed,  and  praised,  and  pushed  those 
of  his  own  school  who  were  forging  to  the  front, 
and  to  the  day  of  his  death  shunned  no  trouble, 
grudged  no  time,  spared  no  effort  to  help  and  ad- 
vise them.  But  he  did  not  stop  at  his  own  intellec- 
tual brood.  His  efforts  to  promote  science  and  to 
spread  the  knowledge  of  the  work  best  calculated 
to  help  in  this  endeavor  extended  far  beyond  the 
necessarily  limited  circle  of  those  he  had  himself 
trained.  Several  times,  in  the  years  immediately 
preceding  his  death,  he  made  a  special  pilgrimage 
to  St.  Mary's  at  Rochester,  Minnesota,  the  stupen- 
dously systematized  creation  of  the  Mayos,  and  he 
was  untiring  in  his  private  and  public  encomiums  on 
this  institution.  One  of  his  last  articles,  written 
for  the  New  York  Medical  Journal,  was  to  describe 
and  praise  the  methods  of  the  Mayos,  their  hospi- 
tal, their  equipment,  their  successes;  to  praise  them 

^73 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

without  stint,  to  glory  in  their  services  to  humanity 
and  to  science,  as  if  they  had  been  triumphs  of  his 
own. 

In  his  professional  work  he  showed  himself 
always  willing  to  immediately  test  the  methods 
invented  by  a  brother  surgeon,  and  to  adopt  and 
teach  them  if  he  found  them  advantageous  or  meri- 
torious. In  corroboration  of  this  trait  of  his,  I  cite 
two  short  letters  from  eastern  colleagues.  Under 
date  of  December  i,  1899,  Dr.  Maurice  H.  Richard- 
son, of  Boston,  wrote : 

Dear  Dr.  Bernays: 

I  have  no  finished  reprint  of  the  paper  on  "  Acute  Abdomi- 
nal Symptoms  Demanding  Immediate  Surgical  Interference." 
They  called  for  the  paper  for  the  "  Transactions  "  before  I 
had  an  opportunity  to  revise  it.  I  have  some  reprints  of  it 
as  it  appeared  in  the  "  Transactions  "  of  the  Maine  Medical 
Association,  and  I  will  send  you  one  of  those.  I  feel  very 
much  flattered  that  you  should  ask  for  it. 

Yours  sincerely, 

M.  H.  Richardson. 

Inclosure. 

Exactly  two  years  later  Dr.  Howard  Kelly,  of 
Baltimore,  says : 

1418  Eutaw  Place,  December  1,  1901. 
Dear  Bernays: 

I  send  you  reprints  for  more  convenient  reference.  You 
are  wonderfully  quick  in  the  uptake,  and  there  is  no  danger 
of  your  becoming  fossilized  this  decade. 

274 


The  Years  1900-1904 

I  appreciate,  dear  Doctor,  more  than  the  kindly  courtesy 
of  your  letter,  the  generosity  of  spirit  which  enables  you 
simply  and  frankly  to  take  something  from  the  hands  of 
another,  and  to  say  that  it  is  good  and  use  it. 

No,  the  nearest  combination  I  know  of  is  the  "  artificial 
menopause." 

Very  sincerely  yours, 

Howard  A.  Kelly. 

Far  from  him,  indeed,  was  the  possibility  of  fall- 
ing into  old  fogyism.  He  took  as  he  gave,  frankly 
and  gladly,  knowing  well  that  it  takes  the  combined 
strength  of  many  to  make  a  perceptible  advance 
into  the  deep,  dark  territory  of  the  unknown.  The 
bewailing  of  the  "  good  old  time  "  was  always  pro- 
vocative of  a  smile  in  him.  His  modernity  to  the 
day  of  his  death  was  one  of  his  salient  intellectual 
qualities,  and  this  belief  of  his  in  the  constant 
advance  of  humanity  extended  far  beyond  the  con- 
fines of  his  own  particular  vocation  —  to  the  very 
outposts  of  human  endeavor.  Never  did  he  recede 
from  his  enthusiasm  for  originality  and  intrepidity 
in  thought  and  action.  With  unerring  intuition  he 
recognized  the  vital  departure  that  was  destined  to 
live  —  distinguished  between  the  passing  fad  and  the 
movement  that  had  come  to  stay,  between  the  fakir 
and  the  hero.  Endless  is  the  array  of  the  journal- 
istic, political,  literary,  artistic  lights  which  he  hailed 
on  first  appearance,  and,  despite  the  persistent  war 

275 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

made  on  them  by  carping  criticism  and  lagging 
spirit,  stood  by  them  —  sometimes,  after  years,  to 
see  his  instantaneous  judgment  accepted.  Out- 
ward advantages  never  blinded  him,  and  neither 
did  social  disadvantages,  nor  yet  concomitant  ethical 
shortcomings,  prejudice  him  against  real  merit. 
Whether  a  man  was  Jew  or  Gentile;  white,  black, 
or  yellow;  whether  he  drank  or  gambled,  or  other- 
wise overstepped  bars  put  up  by  convention,  if  he 
in  any  way  furthered  the  world,  such  activity  gave 
him  value  as  a  member  of  human  society,  and  that 
value  the  Doctor  believed  in  acknowledging. 

Though  catholic  in  his  taste  for  art,  the  modern 
movements  had  his  supreme  sympathy.  The  im- 
pressionists, plein-airists,  secessionists,  he  studied 
and  appreciated  with  tremendous  gusto.  Whether 
it  was  Bocklin,  Segantini,  or  Rodin  —  whoever 
brought  out  a  point  of  view  in  art,  whether  of  con- 
ception or  technic  hitherto  hidden  or  unheeded,  fas- 
cinated him.  A  newness  that  was  mere  eclecticism, 
weak  compromise,  something  neither  hot  nor  cold, 
he  waved  aside  with  his  accustomed  smile  of  derision 
for  feeble  treatment.  He  was  radical  —  the  born 
surgeon  —  in  all  things,  and  knew  that  onward  in 
art,  in  politics,  in  ethics,  meant  just  the  same  as  in 
science  —  cut  away  the  diseased  and  the  decay- 
ing,   remove    every    cell    that    is    not    fit    to    live, 

276 


The  Years  ipoo-1904 

or  else  it  will  encroach  on  and  poison  the  whole 
organism. 

In  1903  Dr.  W.  V.  Kingsbury  of  Butte,  Mon- 
tana, persuaded  my  brother  to  tour  the  National 
Park  with  him  and  Dr.  W.  O.  Campbell.  The 
three  drove  through  the  park  in  a  surrey,  taking  a 
negro  servant  with  them  to  attend  to  the  making 
up  of  the  tent  and  the  cooking  when  they  camped. 
Dr.  Kingsbury,  one  of  the  Doctor's  early  assist- 
ants, had  always  remained  a  favorite  because  of 
his  whole-souled,  life-  and  laughter-loving  disposi- 
tion, that  chimed  in  with  his  own,  as  well  as  because 
of  his  natural  dexterity  in  their  mutual  profession. 
My  brother  enjoyed  the  grandeurs  he  saw,  and 
never  tired  of  telling  of  the  fun  he  had  in  the  Kings- 
bury home  with  his  friend's  three  healthy  babies 
that  were  growing  up  naturally  in  the  broad,  free 
western  lands.  He  came  home  enthusiastic,  and 
was  planning  another  trip  to  include  me.  But  this 
and  other  plans  were  rudely  crossed  by  the  cruel 
and  unflinching  hand  of  disease  and  death,  which 
was  even  then  stretched  out  to  crush  that  life  that 
was  so  enamored  of  life. 

Only  about  two  weeks  after  his  return  from  the 
Yellowstone,  August,  after  having  taken  a  Turkish 
bath,  was  suddenly  stricken  with  illness,  due  prob- 
ably to  the  rupture  of  a  small  vein  or  artery  in  the 

277 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

brain.  He  was  attacked  by  violent  fits  of  vomit- 
ing, alternating  with  loss  of  consciousness.  His  as- 
sistants, in  their  dismay,  did  the  little  they  could, 
sending  first  for  our  youngest  brother,  Walter,  then 
the  city  chemist,  with  offices  near  by  on  Eleventh 
and  Chestnut  streets,  and  afterward  for  me.  Wal- 
ter and  I  took  him  home  as  soon  as  we  could  to 
the  residence  at  Laclede  avenue,  where  he  was 
attended  by  Drs.  Summa  and  Barck.  There  was 
a  slight  paralysis  of  his  left  leg  and  some  difficulty 
of  speech  for  a  short  time.  These,  however,  soon 
gave  way  to  the  absolute  rest  the  physicians  or- 
dered, together  with  total  abstinence  from  even 
slight  stimulants.  After  three  or  four  weeks  he 
was  up  and  about  once  more  and  resumed  his  work. 
At  times,  especially  after  the  rest  and  change  of  va- 
cations, which  became  after  this  memento  mori  more 
frequent  and  of  longer  duration,  he  felt  refreshed 
and  in  as  good  form  as  ever.  Yet,  in  spite  of  that 
and  of  the  cheer  and  hope  his  devoted  friends  tried 
to  give  him,  he  was  too  keen  an  observer,  too  thor- 
oughly conversant  with  the  various  forms  of  func- 
tional decay  and  disease,  not  to  know  that  his  days 
were  numbered.  He  kept  up  a  bold  front  for  the 
most  part,  rarely  giving  way  to  outspoken  despond- 
ency, but  at  moments  when  he  believed  himself 
unwatched   there   was   often   thereafter   a   sadness 

278 


The  Years  1900-1904 

and  a  wistfulness  about  his  face  which  betokened 
that  he  was  aware  he  walked  in  the  valley  of  the 
shadow  of  death.  This  expression  of  intensity  and 
absorption  is  caught  with  a  gripping  force  in  the 
large  photograph  Strauss  took  of  him  that  winter 
when,  just  convalescent,  he  wandered  into  that  ar- 
tist's studio  one  morning.  He  left  the  photograph 
at  Strauss',  asking  that  it  be  sent  to  me  after  his 
death,  and  I,  indeed,  never  knew  of  it  until  he  slept 
the  eternal  sleep.  It  is  a  triumph  of  photography 
rarely  achieved  —  it  seems  almost  to  live,  and  paint- 
ers who  see  it  are  invariably  seized  with  an  irre- 
pressible desire  to  add  to  its  marvelous  semblance 
of  reality  the  farther  adjunct  of  color.  Thus  far 
I  have  resisted  their  blandishments,  fearful  that, 
instead  of  adding  to  its  almost  breathing  likeness, 
some  false  note  be  struck,  which  would  alter  and 
destroy  its  penetrating  forcefulness  and  verity. 

The  band  of  those  who  had  seen  his  work  at 
close  range,  who  had -heard  his  lectures,  who  had 
been  assistants  to  him,  had  grown  large  and  strong. 
It  was  a  loyal  band,  and  grateful  and  proud  to 
have  served  under  him,  glad  to  acknowledge  his 
many  acts  o-f  kindness,  anxious  to  proclaim  his 
prowess.  Instances  of  touching  devotion  from 
many  of  his  followers  were  frequent.  One  way 
they  had  of  honoring  him  was  a  source  of  recurrent 

279 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

pleasure  to  him.  It  was  the  naming  of  their  first- 
born after  him.  Every  now  and  then  he  would 
receive  a  letter,  often  accompanied  by  a  photo- 
graph of  a  small  unformed  morsel  of  humanity, 
announcing  in  words  of  joy  and  pride  the  advent 
and  the  instant  bestowal  of  the  given  name  of 
Bernays  on  the  little  stranger  in  the  household  of 
a  former  student.  I  heard  him  say  shortly  before 
his  death,  "  Well,  if  I  myself  have  given  no  hos- 
tages to  fortune,  at  least  there  are  sixteen  young 
American  citizens  who  bear  Bernays  as  a  given 
name."  Below  is  a  letter  from  a  friend  of  his 
youth  which  pretends  to  object  to  the  naming  of 
his  first  grandchild  after  the  Doctor  on  religious 
grounds.  The  doctor  handed  it  to  me  one  day  at 
breakfast  with  a  smile  at  its  quaint  cynicism,  mas- 
querading as  religious  qualm,  and  I  preserved  it. 
As  I  do  not  wish  to  embarrass  any  one,  it  is  here 
given  with  the  names  omitted. 

Dear  Doctor: 

My  son-in-law,  Dr. ,  has  just  been  visited  by  the  stork, 

which  left  him  a  fine  boy,  and  he  is  determined  to  name  the 
kid  Bernays,  after  you.  I  told  him  he  should  hesitate  a  long 
time  and  weigh  the  matter  well  before  bestowing  the  name 
on  his  offspring,  as  I  had  known  you  for  many  years,  and 
know  you  to  be  a  confirmed  Pagan  in  your  religious  belief. 
I  told  him  you  did  not  even  believe  in  the  efficacy  of  the 
atonement,  and  I  was  afraid  if  he  named  the  boy  after  you 

280 


The  Years  1900-1904 

that  he  might  grow  up  with  the  strange  and  dangerous  re- 
ligious beliefs  in  his  head,  but  the  Doctor  seems  determined 
to  have  his  way  about  it.  I  think  you  would  better  warn 
him. 

By  the  way,  Dr.  has  worked  into  a  very  fine  practice 

for  the  length  of  time  he  has  been  here.  He  thinks  you  are 
the  greatest  surgeon  in  the  world,  and  can  not  get  done  feeling 
grateful  for  your  kindness  to  him. 

Yours  truly, 


28l 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

LAST  YEARS 

Life  well  spent  is  long. —  Leonardo  da  Vinci. 

When  in  May,  1904,  it  became  evident  that  our 
Louisiana  Purchase  Exposition  was  not  likely  to  be 
fully  ready  for  weeks,  my  brother  asked  me  one 
day  whether  I  would  go  with  him  to  Japan  for 
a  short  stay  in  that  island,  at  that  time  most  inter- 
estingly engaged  in  its  test  of  military  power  with 
Russia.  He  felt  a  little  weary  after  the  winter's 
work  —  the  most  successful  from  a  financial  stand- 
point he  had  ever  had.  Although  he  had  appar- 
ently recovered  from  the  slight  stroke  he  had  had 
in  the  previous  autumn,  he  knew  it  to  be  the  part 
of  wisdom  to  avoid  a  long  strain  and  press  of 
work,  and  to  obtain  the  complete  rest  and  relief 
the  voyage  across  the  Pacific,  to  be  made  twice 
within  a  few  months,  would  bring.  So  we  de- 
parted on  May  14th  from  San  Francisco,  touching 
the  Hawaiian  Islands  for  a  day,  and  returning 
early  in  August  by  the  same  route. 

282 


Last  Years 

The  temptation  is  great  to  recall  at  length  the 
delights  of  this,  our  most  delightful,  voyage,  but 
there  is  danger  of  transgressing  all  bounds  in  the 
joy  of  reminiscence.  Though  we  visited  only  the 
northern  part  of  the  island,  because  the  trains  were 
moving  troops  and  not  always  at  the  disposal  of 
travelers,  we  saw  and  learned  a  great  deal.  We 
reveled  in  rickshawing,  banzaiing  the  victories  of 
the  Japanese,  observing,  and  purchasing.  We  were 
lucky,  too,  in  meeting  and  making  acquaintance 
with  two  Europeans  who  had  intimate  knowledge, 
by  reason  of  having  spent  the  greater  part  of  their 
lives  in  Japan,  of  all  that  concerned  the  island  and 
its  inhabitants.  The  one  was  Mr.  Basil  Hall 
Chamberlain,  the  universally  quoted  author  of 
"  Things  Japanese,"  the  other  Dr.  Scriba,  who  had 
taught  the  Japanese  nearly  all  they  know  about 
surgery.  Dr.  Scriba  had  preceded  my  brother  as  a 
pupil  of  Gustav  Simon  at  Heidelberg  by  a  few 
years,  and  was  so  delighted  to  get  a  chance  to  talk 
over  subjects  dear  to  his  heart  with  a  colleague, 
to  whom  mutual  reverence  for  their  teacher  seemed 
so  happily  to  bind  him,  that  he  came  up  to  Miya- 
noshita,  where  we  spent  a  little  over  a  week  view- 
ing the  beautiful  Hakone  district,  and  stayed  five 
days  —  most  of  the  time  talking  surgery  to  the 
Doctor.     He  did,   however,   vouchsafe   also   inside 

283 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

information  on  the  subject  of  Japan  and  the 
Japanese,  their  morals,  manners,  art,  habits,  and 
views. 

The  Doctor  never  shopped  so  assiduously  and 
happily  as  in  Japan.  We  had  to  buy  several  new 
trunks  for  the  purchases,  and,  besides,  quantities 
of  things  were  shipped  directly  by  the  merchants 
from  whom  we  bought.  I  was  loaded  with  presents 
of  every  kind  and  description,  both  ornamental 
and  useful  —  household  utensils,  wearing  apparel, 
bric-a-brac,  and  curiosities.  Some  of  the  beautiful 
embroideries  and  the  lacquer  and  ivory  ware  we 
acquired  are  now  in  the  Art  Museum.  For  the  rest 
of  his  life  —  not  to  be  long,  alas  —  the  Doctor  got 
much  joy  out  of  exhibiting  the  treasures  brought  and 
studying  them  himself,  insisting  upon  the  frequent 
use  of  the  beautiful  silverware  he  gave  me,  handling 
the  precious  little  ivories,  the  prints,  and  the  many 
tiny  trifles  for  which  he  was  constantly  darting 
into  shops  at  Yokohama,  Tokyo,  Nikko,  and  Miya- 
noshita. 

The  winter  was  passed  in  tolerable  comfort  at 
home,  but  toward  February  vague  pains,  as  in  1898 
—  inexplicable,  torturing  —  reappeared  in  the  Doc- 
tor's shoulders.  His  blood  pressure  was  extraor- 
dinarily, alarmingly  high.     We  went  to  a  southern 

284 


Last  Years 

resort  in  March,  a  move  which  turned  out  to  be 
a  dismal  failure.  Mere  weather,  supplemented  by 
gambling  in  a  straggling,  ugly  town,  made  up  in 
equal  parts  of  gaudy  hotel  and  gaunt  hospital,  proved 
unmitigatedly  depressing. 

Twice  more  we  crossed  and  recrossed  the  Atlantic 
ocean  together,  going  far  north  to  the  Scandinavian 
countries  and  spending  September  and  part  of 
October  each  time  in  the  region  of  the  Garda  lake 
and  Venice,  the  rich  coloring  of  which,  the  strange 
life,  the  charm  lent  these  places  by  art  and  history, 
the  Doctor  loved  as  well  as  I.  In  1905  we  spent 
about  six  weeks  at  St.  Moritz,  where  the  Doctor 
seemed  to  recover  his  health  and  spirits  almost  as 
completely  as  he  had  in  1898  on  the  Rigi.  He 
was  the  life  and  soul  of  a  large  group  of  interest- 
ing people  we  met  in  the  little  Hotel  Belvedere, 
where  we  stopped.  The  charm  of  his  alert  and 
observing  mind  and  his  sympathetic  manner  won 
people  of  the  most  divers  nationality,  religion,  sta- 
tion, and  habit,  and,  when  finally  we  drove  away 
to  Maloja  and  Chiavenna,  the  street  in  front  of 
the  hotel  was  blocked  with  those  who  came  to  see 
us  off  and  have  a  last  word  with  the  Doctor.  A 
long  letter  he  wrote  Dr.  Graves  describes  his  mood 
at  that  time  better  than  could  any  words  of  mine. 

285 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

Hotel  Belvedere, 
St.  Moritz,  August  14,  1905. 
Dear  Graves: 

We  were  a  week  in  Paris,  a  week  in  Brussels,  two  days 
in  Heidelberg,  and  two  in  Zurich. 

In  Heidelberg  I  spent  a  day  with  Fiirbringer.  He  was 
simply  so  glad  to  see  me  that  he  would  not  let  me  go  —  kept 
me  all  the  first  day  with  him.  Next  day  he  called  at  our 
hotel  and  spent  a  charming  hour  with  Thek  and  me. 

He  remembers  you  well,  and  thinks  well  of  your  powers 
for  work,  but  I  was  much  grieved  when  he  told  me  that  you 
had  said  I  was  a  wreck  and  all  done  up  by  diabetes.  Of 
course,  I  understood  that  error,  and  Fiirbringer  said,  "  You 
need  not  deny  that  now.  Ihr  Aussehen  straft  das  Lugen." 
The  fact  is,  I  am  almost  entirely  myself  again.  The  new 
clothes  Schmidt  made  me  before  I  left  home  are  all  too  small 
for  me.    I  can  not  button  them  round  my  waist. 

Now,  one  more  thing  I  implore  of  you  —  that  if  you  have 
told  any  one  in  St.  Louis  your  opinion  about  me  "  confiden- 
tially," tell  those  same  people  that  you  were  in  error,  that  I 
was  simply  suffering  from  hypo  or  neurasthenia.  The  truth 
is,  I  was  in  the  same  condition  after  the  affair  of  October  1, 
1903  (referring  to  his  illness  of  that  time)  as  a  man  is  who 
sustains  a  trauma,  followed  by  what  we  were  pleased  to  call 
Ericson's  disease.  A  doctor  having  a  hemiplegia  and  aphasia, 
ever  so  slight,  must  sustain  such  a  shock,  knowing  the  prob- 
able future.  My  attack  of  neurasthenia,  or  hypo,  or  depres- 
sion, or  melancholy,  or  all  of  them  together  —  which  now  has 
passed,  let  us  hope,  forever  —  seems  to  me  to  have  been  less 
severe  than  some  other  cases  of  traumatic  or  shock  neuras- 
thenia. I  have  known  them  to  last  from  three  to  four  years 
in  several  cases. 

Please  tell  all  the  doctors  who  may  mention  my  name 
that  I   had  a  neurasthenia   attack,  and   give  your  prognosis. 

286 


Last  Years 

My  appearance  will  bear  you  out  as  being  a  splendid  prog- 
nostician,  as  I  look  as  well  as  ever.  This  altitude  makes  red 
blood  corpuscles  and  does  so  quickly.  It  will  be  two  weeks 
tomorrow  since  we  struck  St.  Moritz.  We  shall  stay  three 
weeks  longer,  then  a  week  of  Venice,  a  week  of  Florence, 
then  Genoa  and  home. 

Thekla  has  written  a  letter  to  the  Westliche  Post.  It  will 
appear  the  Sunday  before  or  after  you  get  this.  Show  it  to 
your  better  nine-tenths,  and  tell  others  who  understand  the 
lingo  to  read  it.  I  have  not  read  it,  but  assume  that  it  will 
be  in  her  usual  piquant  style,  and  will  be  interesting  and 
fascinating.  She  is  a  trump  down  to  her  toe-nails,  and  no 
mistake.  Few  people  realize  what  she  has  been  to  me  and 
how  she  has  contributed  to  my  enjoyment  of  this  earthly 
existence,  which  is  the  only  one  we  can  know  anything  about. 
Apres  nous  le  deluge. 

I  am  invited  to  read  a  paper  at  the  Brussels  Surgical  Con- 
gress, September  16th  and  17th.  I  have  sent  the  title,  "A 
Final  Word  About  the  Treatment  of  Fresh  Attacks  of  Ap- 
pendicitis," to  Kocher,  who  will  preside.  The  trip  to  Brussels 
and  back  to  Genoa  will  cost  twenty-four  hours,  but  I  think  it 
a  good  thing  to  do. 

F.  lost  a  fine  son  of  twenty-one  by  suicide.  The  preacher 
called  after  the  funeral  on  him  and  his  wife,  and  told  them 
"  why  God  took  his  son  away  as  he  did."  F.  says  that  Chris- 
tianity "  ist  nicht  nur  dumm,  sondern  auch  noch  gemein." 
"  Gemein "  in  English  means  common,  cheap,  contemptible, 
low.  This  opinion  is  held  by  all  who  have  examined  the 
dogmas  without  prejudice.  The  post-mortem  on  young  F. 
showed  that  many,  perhaps  all,  of  the  organs  were  permeated 
by  grip  bacilli.  W.  also  lost  a  promising  son  of  between 
twenty  and  twenty-five  by  suicide.  You  see  how  wrong  you 
were  when  you  maintained  in  your  salad  days  —  at  the  time 
you  were  still  a  good  Christian,  before  my  father  and  I  lib- 

287 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

erated  your  fettered  soul  —  that  infidels  would  not  commit 
suicide.  It  is  the  cowardly  believers  who  hesitate  about  doing 
what  is  best  —  not  the  infidels. 

Give  my  love  to  all  inquiring  friends  —  particularly  to 
Eycleshymer,  should  you  meet  him.  Fiirbringer  knew  of  him 
and  of  his  work.    He  is  a  fine  fellow. 

We  are  erecting  a  monument  to  Gegenbaur.  I  contributed, 
of  course.  The  contributions  are  from  3  to  500  marks.  I 
think  the  St.  Louis  University  would  do  well  to  send  a  con- 
tribution and  appear  on  the  roll  of  honor.  The  money  to  be 
sent  to  Fiirbringer,  Heidelberg. 

This  place  is  beautiful  —  the  jewel  of  the  Alps.  It  is  now 
Hochsaison  —  not  a  bed,  much  less  a  room,  to  be  had.  The 
place  is  full  of  golf  and  tennis  players.  America,  England, 
and  the  nobility  of  all  the  European  countries  largely  repre- 
sented. Give  my  regards  to  your  dear  and  devoted  wife. 
Tell  F.  and  others  what  you  think  they  ought  to  know  of 
this   scripture.     Believe   me, 

Sincerely  your  friend, 

A.  C.  Bernays. 

Toward  me  the  Doctor  became  sweeter,  gentler, 
more  thoughtful  even  than  before.  How  well  I 
remember  the  night  we  embarked  for  home  from 
Naples.  We  leaned  long  over  the  railing  in  the 
twilight,  saturating  ourselves  with  the  gorgeous 
spectacle  of  the  wonderful  city  built  up  from  quays 
to  hilltops,  illumined  at  first  by  the  setting  sun,  and 
then  by  its  own  lights  and  the  torch  of  Vesuvius 
fitfully  blazing  forth  in  fiery  figures  against  the 
dark  sky.  When  at  last  I  reluctantly  tore  myself 
away  from  the  luminous  spectacle  and  sought  my 

288 


Last  Years 

cabin,  I  found  it  so  crammed  with  boxes  and  pack- 
ages that  I  could  not  believe  it  mine,  though  it  bore 
my  name  on  the  card  at  the  door.  On  examining 
the  parcels,  I  found  them  gifts  from  the  Doctor, 
consisting  of  gowns,  embroidery,  laces  —  woman's 
frippery.  Things  I  had  idly  admired  in  passing, 
without  a  thought  of  coveting  them,  he  had  gone 
back  for  in  the  cities  where  we  had  lingered,  bought 
them,  and  had  them  shipped.  No  other  man  I 
ever  heard  of  could  have  noted,  would  have  remem- 
bered, such  feminine  fancies.  Never  was  there  an- 
other such  a  brother ! 

Early  in  October  we  arrived  at  home  once  more, 
and  the  Doctor  again  went  cheerfully  to  work. 
But  the  respite  this  time  was  shorter  than  before. 
The  New  Year  of  1906  brought  back  distressing 
symptoms.  Dr.  W.  W.  Graves,  one-time  pupil  and 
assistant  and  always  friend  of  the  Doctor,  was  con- 
sulted and  promptly  ordered  complete  rest.  A  rest 
cure  was  tentatively  commenced,  and  had  at  least 
that  psychical  effect  of  giving  hope  which  any  ener- 
getic attempt  to  restore  health  is  sure  to  have  — 
for  a  limited  period. 

Work  was  strictly  forbidden  during  this  rest  cure. 
But  whoever  heard  of  a  physician  implicitly  obey- 
ing the  commands  of  a  colleague?  My  brother's 
mind  would  not  stay  inactive,  and  so  he  wrote  dur- 

289 


Augustas  Charles  Bernays 

ing  these  weeks  the  little  book  called  "  Golden 
Rules  of  Surgery,"  which  the  C.  V.  Mosby  Com- 
pany published  that  spring.  It  gave  him  genuine 
pleasure  thus  to  philosophize,  indulge  in  reminis- 
cence, sum  up  the  enthusiasms  of  his  life. 

The  little  book  is  diversely  rated.  Its  candor 
and  directness,  its  conception  of  science  as  a  reli- 
gion, its  intensely  personal  touch,  make  it  seem 
much  worth  while  to  some.  To  others  it  is  dis- 
appointing because  of  its  brevity,  and  because  the 
rules  are  in  part  taken  from  the  work  of  the  same 
name  published  by  Hurry  Fenwick  in  England. 

The  keynote  of  the  Doctor's  conviction  of  what 
books  at  best  can  profit  the  student  is  struck  in  the 
dedication  of  the  book  to  Dr.  Charles  Mayo,  "  He 
teaches  all  he  has  learned  in  the  only  possible  way 
one  man  can  teach  another  —  by  letting  the  other 
see  his  work."  He  could  have  also  quoted  Walt 
Whitman,  "  To  glance  with  an  eye  confounds  the 
learning  of  all  times."  Then,  it  might  be  queried, 
why  write  a  book  on  surgery  at  all?  To  that  the 
answer  is  in  my  brother's  own  words,  "  The  text 
book  is  a  poor,  but  necessary,  adviser  to  the  stu- 
dent." 

The  ordinary  text  book  becomes  antiquated  in 
a  short  time,  and  condemned  to  grace  second-hand 
book  shops,  unless  constantly  revised  and  brought 

290 


Last  Years 

up  to  date.  The  Doctor  at  the  time  he  wrote  his 
book  stood  viewing  life  from  an  angle  of  eternity, 
and  scorned  to  write  of  his  master  passion  in  a 
manner  aloof,  ephemeral,  impersonal.  Science  was 
a  continuous  process  to  him,  with  many  workers 
forging  its  links.  Hurry  Fenwick  had  formulated 
what  was  thoroughly  established.  This  the  Doc- 
tor, with  his  accustomed  simplicity  "  of  taking  from 
another  and  calling  it  good,"  as  Howard  Kelly 
put  it,  accepted  as  the  nucleus,  from  which  to  wan- 
der, he  felt,  would  be  supererogation.  Only  where 
his  own  experience  varied  from  that  of  others  did 
he  alter  the  rules  and  add  what  was  his  own  well- 
founded  and  tried  opinion.  More  than  half  of  the 
book  is  devoted  to  reminiscence,  reflections,  and 
practical  advice  to  the  young  men  in  the  profession. 
It  is  written  with  white  honesty,  from  which  not  a 
syllable  can  be  subtracted,  nor  yet  a  word  added, 
without  marring  its  effect.  When  it  was  finished 
he  said,  with  the  undying  artlessness  and  the  candid 
rejoicing  in  what  was  well  done  —  whether  his  own 
or  another's  —  that  was  his  to  the  end,  "It  reads 
just  like  a  novel." 

Earlier  than  usual  we  embarked  for  Europe  that 
year,  and  later  than  ever  before  —  on  the  ist  of 
November  —  did  we  return.  The  Doctor  suffered 
on  the  voyage  across  from  fits  of  depression,  and 

291 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

the  chill  and  grayness  of  that  European  summer 
were  ill  calculated  to  have  a  cheering  effect.  Only 
toward  the  end  of  the  trip  did  his  mood  lighten, 
and  on  beautiful  Garda  lake  and  in  Venice  and 
Florence  we  spent  halcyon  hours.  The  crossing 
home  was  the  softest,  balmiest  imaginable  until 
within  a  day  of  port,  and  the  Doctor  hobnobbed  in 
his  "  friendly  Indian "  fashion  with  the  motliest 
company  that  ever  floated  westward  on  a  steamer 
—  from  the  stately  polyglot  princess  that  daily 
breakfasted  with  him  to  the  raw,  western  youth 
who  returned  more  dazed  than  enlightened  from  his 
first  European  tour,  and  the  Catilinarian  journalist 
from  Berlin  who,  embittered,  was  shaking  the  dust 
of  the  effete  monarchies  out  of  his  frayed  and 
faded  clothes. 

As  usual,  the  Doctor  was  at  first  sanguine  after 
reaching  home,  and  remained  seemingly  convinced 
for  a  long  time  that  his  condition  was  materially 
improved.  At  any  rate,  he  decided  that  it  was 
best  for  him  to  dwell  as  little  as  possible  on  his 
ailments,  both  because  of  the  direct  effect  of  the 
thought  on  his  condition,  and  also  because  of  the 
reports  so  readily  circulated  with  regard  to  his 
failing  health,  which  hurt  him  in  more  ways  than 
one.  But  his  appetite  dwindled  again  gradually, 
and  he  came  home  early  and  tired  each  afternoon 

292 


Last  Years 

toward  the  spring  of  1907  and  lay  down  to  read 
or  rest.  And  yet  he  was  active,  helping  his  friends 
more  eagerly  than  ever,  interested  in  projects  for 
an  up-to-date  hospital  —  alas,  so  much  needed  in 
St.  Louis.  He  consulted  architects  —  his  cousin, 
Louis  Spiering,  and  Mr.  Isaac  Taylor  —  in  regard 
to  plans,  means,  etc.,  for  an  ideal  institution,  and 
conferred  with  others  about  financing  the  under- 
taking. 

He  also  had  in  contemplation  the  writing  of  an 
article  on  appendicitis  —  a  summing  up,  as  it  were, 
of  his  ideas  and  experience  on  the  subject.  It  was 
to  have  been  dedicated  to  his  former  assistants. 
I  found  the  opening  sentences  as  given  below,  to- 
gether with  a  list  of  thirty-five  names  of  men  who, 
as  assistants  of  his  and  thereafter,  had  become  pro- 
ficient. Illness  and  death  interrupted  the  comple- 
tion of  this  gracious  testimonial.  I  feel  that  knowl- 
edge of  the  intention  should  reach  those  whom  he 
indicated,  and,  therefore,  give  this  fragment  as  I 
found  it : 

This  is  probably  the  last  contribution  I  shall  make  to  the 
literature  of  appendicitis  and  its  treatment.  I  wish  to  dedicate 
it  to  my  former  assistants  and  pupils.  Their  names  are  con- 
tained in  the  adjoining  list.  It  is  largely  due  to  them  that 
I  was  enabled  to  do  so  much  work.  Many  of  them  now  oc- 
cupy most  enviable  positions  among  the  surgeons  of  this 
country,  and  I  desire  to  say  that  the  results  that  have  been 

293 


Augustas  Charles  Bernays 

obtained  are  as  much  due  to  their  efforts,  in  many  instances, 
as  to  my  own.  I  take  pride  in  saying  that  probably  not  in  a 
single  instance  was  one  dose  of  opium  or  morphin  given  to 
any  patient  under  my  orders  for  a  period  of  time  extending 
over  twenty  years.  The  same  is  true  of  strichnin,  belladonna, 
digitalis,  and  other  poisons. 

Dr.  Cottam,  writing  to  me  after  his  death,  says : 

It  was  through  me  he  became  affiliated  with  the  Western 
Surgical  Gynecological  Association  in  1899,  and  I  remember 
that  he  thanked  me  for  it  just  as  though  the  honor  and  the 
benefit  of  his  membership  were  not  all  ours. 

Further  on,  in  the  same  letter,  Dr.  Cottam  writes : 

Word  of  his  indisposition  came  to  me  many  months  ago, 
and  so  last  winter,  when  my  wife  and  I  were  returning  from 
a  meeting  in  the  South,  we  made  it  a  point  to  stop  off  in 
St.  Louis  and  we  spent  a  memorable  couple  of  hours  with 
him.  I  told  him  of  a  project  of  mine  to  get  up  a  "  Festschrift " 
for  him,  but  he  would  not  hear  of  it.  "  Not  until  I  am  dead, 
Cottam,"  was  all  the  response  he  would  make  to  the  sugges- 
tion, although  he  did  finally  agree  to  furnish  me  sometime 
with  the  names  of  twelve  or  fifteen  who  would  be  creditable 
contributors  to  the  volume. 

It  was  then  that,  reversing  the  order  of  things,  he 
decided  to  write  the  article  to  be  dedicated  to  his 
pupils,  quoted  above. 

In  the  spring  he  again  began  to  look  thin  and 
wan,  and  to  have  at  intervals  short,  sharp  at- 
tacks  of   a   cramping,    and    for   moments   terribly 

294 


Last  Years 

painful  sensation  about  his  heart.  Angina  pec- 
toris he  called  his  trouble.  To  me  the  name  did 
not  bear  the  ominous  significance  I  now  know  it 
sometimes  has,  because  uncle  Charles  had  suffered 
from  this  disease  for  many  years  before  his  death, 
and  had  succumbed  finally  to  a  different  cause. 
And  so  I  was  mercifully  blind  to  the  indications 
that  August  was  to  be  with  me  only  a  little  while 
longer.  Unaccountably  blind,  it  seems  to  me  now 
—  and  yet  mercifully.  Knowledge  would  have 
broken  me  utterly,  and  left  me  without  strength  for 
either  of  us  to  lean  upon. 

It  was  at  noon  on  May  17th  that  he  came  home, 
as  during  late  years  he  had  done  several  times,  in 
suffering  and  alarm.  We  sent  at  once  for  Dr. 
Graves,  who  prescribed  only  absolute  rest.  He 
seemed  better  all  the  afternoon,  and  would  not 
hear  of  my  recalling  the  invitations  to  dine  inform- 
ally I  had  sent  to  a  few  friends.  He  ate  heartily, 
too  heartily,  of  the  giant  Belleville  asparagus  of 
which  he  was  always  fond.  Then  he  slept,  or  dozed 
rather,  and  seemed  to  be  easy  until  one  o'clock  the 
following  morning,  when  the  attacks  of  horrible 
pain  were  renewed  at  frequent  intervals. 

There  followed  hours  of  such  intense,  heart- 
rending suffering  that  to  think  of  them  even  now 
is  to  live  over  again  his  unbearable  torture.     He 

295 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

demanded  chloroform  to  deaden  the  pain,  and, 
after  consulting  Dr.  Graves  by  telephone,  he  was 
given  it.  But  Dr.  Graves'  consent  to  the  use  of  the 
anodyne  was,  of  course,  qualified  by  the  caution  to 
administer  as  little  as  possible.  Over  and  over 
again  during  the  anguish  of  that  night  I  wished 
that  neither  of  us  might  survive  it.  Besides  the 
almost  unendurable  suffering  I  had  to  look  upon, 
unable  to  alleviate  it,  there  was  on  me  the  fearful 
responsibility  of  giving  only  just  enough  of  the  drug 
to  benumb  and  quiet.  My  cousin  Charles  Doring 
and  my  nephew  Eric  helped  me  faithfully  during 
part  of  the  night.  But  their  work  called  them  in- 
exorably in  the  morning,  and  I  knew  they  could 
ill  spare  the  loss  of  sleep;  so  I  sent  them  away 
after  a  time.  I  wonder  that  my  hair  did  not  turn 
white  with  the  agony  of  it  —  the  Doctor  at  frequent 
intervals  waking  up  at  the  unremittingly  cruel 
renewal  of  the  pain,  and  clamoring,  struggling, 
pleading  for  more  of  the  drug  than  I  dared  to  give 
him. 

On  the  following  morning  an  expert  nurse  was 
obtained,  who  had  exact  instructions  and  possessed 
the  training  and  assurance  I  lacked.  Gradually 
the  attacks  grew  less  frequent,  and  on  the  third 
and  fourth  days  he  was  so  much  better  that  I  could 
put  the  thought  of  his  impending  death  from  me 

296 


Last  Years 

once  more.  He  saw  his  friends  and  former  as- 
sistants, talked  surgery  with  them  with  some  of  his 
wonted  alertness,  and  waxed  angry  at  being  pro- 
hibited smoking  and  his  matutinal  coffee.  Indeed, 
being  denied  the  latter  he  took  as  a  tragedy,  as  a 
cruel  infliction,  an  injustice,  and  a  personal  insult. 
All  his  life  he  had  been  accustomed  to  a  very  large 
cup,  sometimes  two,  of  the  strongest  brew  for  break- 
fast, and  to  abstain,  to  substitute  milk  or  cocoa, 
seemed  to  him  an  incredibly  preposterous  depriva- 
tion. 

On  the  fifth  day  he  seemed  a  great  deal  better. 
He  got  out  of  bed  repeatedly,  walked  about,  and 
looked  out  of  the  windows  into  the  sunshine  of 
the  beautiful  May  morning.  The  nurse  asked  to  be 
excused  all  afternoon.  I  read  to  him  for  a  while 
from  the  Zukunft.  Then  he  wearied  of  listening 
and  took  the  magazine,  a  very  light  one,  himself. 
I  established  myself  with  some  mending  on  a  couch 
near  his  bed,  and  we  were  chatting  about  German 
art  between  the  sentences  he  slowly  and  emphatic- 
ally read  aloud  now  and  then  from  an  article. 
Suddenly  he  dropped  the  book,  gasping  and  strug- 
gling for  breath  as  never  before.  I  sprang  to  him, 
holding  him  in  my  arms,  crying  for  help.  Desper- 
ately I  tried  to  ease  him,  but  I  knew  in  my  heart 
that  all  was  vain.     The  maids  came  running  at  my 

297 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

cry,  and  telephoned  for  Dr.  Bartlett,  but,  although 
he  jumped  into  a  machine  that  stood  ready  and 
sped  over  the  six  blocks  from  his  house  to  ours  in  a 
few  minutes,  before  he  entered  the  room  the  great 
heart  that  was  my  brother's  had  ceased  to  beat. 

Even  now,  that  nearly  five  years  have  passed 
since  that  afternoon,  I  am  not  able  to  speak  of  it 
with  the  calm  that  the  opinions  I  hold  would  seem 
to  imply.  Much  less  can  I  write  of  it  —  when 
there  is  no  one  by  to  put  me  on  my  mettle,  to 
appeal  to  my  self-control. 

Let  me,  then,  state  baldly  what  the  Doctors  told 
me  after  the  autopsy.  Dr.  Graves  gave  as  the  cause 
of  death  aneurysm  of  the  heart.  Dr.  Bartlett,  at 
my  request,  wrote  the  following  lines  to  explain 
exactly  what  happened :  "  In  the  course  of  arte- 
riosclerosis the  left  coronary  artery  became  plugged, 
resulting  in  acute  ischemia  of  the  muscular  area 
supplied  by  it.  The  consequence  of  this  was  rup- 
ture of  the  anterior  wall  of  the  left  ventricle,  the 
pericardium  being  found  filled  with  blood  in  the 
autopsy." 

He  probably  knew  what  was  imminent.  His 
blood  pressure  had  been  from  240  to  245  for  a  long 
time  (the  normal  being  from  120  to  130),  and  his 
pulse  at  times  extraordinarily  high.  He  had  seen 
Professor  Simon,  his  first  master  in  surgery,  die  un- 

298 


Last  Years 

der  similar  circumstances  —  others,  no  doubt,  since 
then.  Grandly  he  maintained  himself  when  he  felt 
the  approach  of  the  Destroyer  he  had  so  often 
worsted  in  the  fight  for  other  lives,  and  knew  that 
for  himself  there  was  no  hope  of  foiling  him.  Gen- 
erous and  considerate  as  ever,  he  spared  me  the 
knowledge  he  must  have  had,  and  —  coward  that  I 
was  —  I  suffered  him  to  do  so. 

The  papers  had  a  great  deal  to  print  about  the 
manner  of  his  last  rites.  They  were  of  my  devis- 
ing, and  in  accordance  with  the  tenets  he  had  held 
firmly  all  through  life  to  the  edge  of  dissolution. 
There  was  not  between  him  and  me,  in  those  last 
days  preceding  his  death,  speech  or  discussion  of 
any  kind  in  regard  to  the  disposal  of  his  remains 
or  the  ceremony  of  his  funeral.  We  avoided  such 
subjects.  In  happy  days  of  perfect  health  he  had 
casually  expressed  the  wish  that  friends,  and  not 
strange,  hired  priests,  give  him  the  last  salute. 

It  needed  not  this  injunction.  Would  there  have 
been  any  meaning  in  our  long  communion  if  in 
death  I  could  have  mocked  him  with  that  which, 
as  long  as  he  drew  breath,  he  had  spurned  as  false  ? 

And  so,  amidst  a  great  concourse  of  those  to 
whom  the  name  and  the  form  of  A.  C.  Bernays 
had  been  the  synonym  of  high  scientific  and  humani- 
tarian ideals,  F.  W.  Lehmann  and  Dr.  C.  Barck, 

299 


Augustus  Charles  Bemays 

loyal  friends  of  long  standing,  spoke  of  his  life  and 
of  his  service  with  the  sincerity  and  the  simplicity 
that  were  befitting.  Then  his  body  was  committed 
to  the  flames. 


300 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 

CONTRIBUTIONS  OF  DR.  BERNAYS  TO  THE  LITERATURE  OF 
MEDICINE  FROM    1875   TO    I906. 

ARRANGED   BY    DR.    G.    G.    COTTAM.1 

Translation  of  Gustav  Simon's  article  on  methods  of  rendering 
the  female  bladder  accessible  and  on  probing  the  ureter  in 
women. —  New  York  Jour.   (Chicago),  XXII,  1875. 

Die  Entwicklungsgeschichte  der  Atrioventricularklappen  (Hei- 
delberg).—  Morph.  Jahrb.   (Leipzig),  II,  478,  1876. 

Die  Entwicklungsgeschichte  des  Kniegelenkes  des  Menschen, 
mit  Bemerkungen  iiber  die  Gelenke  im  Allgemeinen. — 
Morph.  Jahrb.   (Leipzig),  IV,  403,  1878. 

Echinococcus  cyst  of  the  liver,  in  which  the  contents  of  the 

cyst    were    discharged   through    the    intestine. —  Trans.    St. 

Louis    Med.    Society,    January-February,    1878;    St.    Louis 

Med.  and  Surg.  Jour.,  XXXIV,  303,  1878. 
Decidua    menstrualis ;    report    of  case,    with    presentation    of 

specimen. —  St.  Louis  Med.  Society,  April  6,  1878;  St.  Louis 

Med.  and  Surg.  Jour.,  XXXIV,  474,  1878. 

Cancer  of  superior  maxilla;  report  of  case,  with  presentation 

of  specimen. —  St.   Louis  Med.  Society,  April  6,  1878;   St. 

Louis  Med.  and  Surg.  Jour.,  XXXIV,  474,  1878. 
Staphylorrhaphy  in   syphilitic  children. —  St.  Louis   Med.   and 

Surg.  Jour.,  XXXIV,  305,  1878. 
Aborted   ovum  and  fetal  monstrosity. —  St.   Louis   Med.   and 

Surg.  Jour.  (Proc.  Med.  Society),  XXXV,  115,  1878. 

1  The  material  on  which  this  bibliography  is  based  was  obtained  from 
sources  too  diverse  to  permit  of  individual  mention.  Exception  must  be 
made,  however,  to  permit  of  acknowledging  with  many  grateful  thanks 
the  bibliographer's  indebtedness  to  the  resources  of  the  John  Crerar 
Library,  Chicago,  through  the  courtesy  of  whose  librarian,  Mr.  Clement 
W.  Andrews,  every  facility  was  afforded. 

301 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

The   spirit  of  the   European  medical  press. —  St.   Louis  Med. 

and  Surg.  Jour.,  XXXVI,  46,  97,  197,  1879. 
Esophageal  abscess. —  St.  Louis  Med.  and  Surg.  Jour.,  XXXVI, 

218,  1879. 
Case   of   ovarian   tumor. —  St.   Louis   Med.   and   Surg.   Jour., 

XXXVI,  31,  1879. 
On  the   treatment  of  certain   forms   of  endometritis   and   en- 

docervicitis  accompanied  by  sterility ;  Gustav  Simon's  oper- 
ation.—  St.   Louis   Med.   and   Surg.   Jour.,   XXXVIII,   363, 

1880. 
Ovulation  and  menstruation. —  St.  Louis  Med.  and  Surg.  Jour., 

XXXVIII,  268,  1880. 
Amputation   without   ligatures. —  St.    Louis    Med.    and    Surg. 

Jour.,  XXXVIII,  275,  1880. 
Sunstroke. —  St.  Louis  Med.  and  Surg.  Jour.,  XXXVIII,  665, 

1880. 
The  ovarian  origin   of  hysteria. —  St.  Louis  Med.  and   Surg. 

Jour.,  XXXVIII,  670,  1880. 
Exhibition  of  instruments  for  dilating  the  uterus ;  adaptation 

of  Simon's  method  of  urethral  dilatation. —  St.  Louis  Med. 

and  Surg.  Jour.,  XXXVIII,  660,  1880. 
Obstruction  of  the  urethra. —  St.  Louis  Med.  and  Surg.  Jour., 

XXXVIII,  671,  1880. 

Sciatic  neuralgia. —  St.  Louis  Med.  and  Surg.  Jour.,  XXXVIII, 

116. 
Sciatic  neuralgia ;  nerve  stretching  and  neurotomy. —  St.  Louis 

Med.  and  Surg.  Jour.,  XXXIX,  249,  1880. 
Syphilitic  ulcer  between  the  trachea  and  the  arch  of  the  aorta. 

St.  Louis  Med.  and  Surg.  Jour.,  XXXIX.,  250,  1880. 
Corpora    orizoidea    (rice    bodies)    in    chronic    synovitis. —  St. 

Louis  Med.  and  Surg.  Jour.,  XXXIX,  539,  1880. 
Use  of  cathartics  in  obstruction. —  St.  Louis  Med.  and  Surg. 

Jour.,  XXXIX,  746,  1880. 
Case    of    ovariotomy. —  St.    Louis     Med.    and    Surg.    Jour., 

XXXIX,  752,  1880. 

Ovarian  tumor  cured  by  nature  through  absorption. —  St.  Louis 

Med.  and  Surg.  Jour.,  XXXIX,  752,  1880. 
Destruction  of  metacarpal  bone  of  the  thumb. —  St.  Louis  Med. 

and  Surg.  Jour.,  XLII,  46,  1882. 

302 


Bibliography 

On  the  death  of  John  T.  Hodgen,  M.  D.—  St.  Louis  Med.  and 
Surg.  Jour.,  XLH,  530,  1882. 

On  modern  methods  of  anatomical  research. —  St.  Louis  Med. 
and  Surg.  Jour.,  XLII,  605,  1882. 

Vesical  calculus. —  St.  Louis  Med.  and  Surg.  Jour.,  XLII,  615, 
1882. 

Spontaneous  gangrene  of  the  penis  in  an  old  gentleman  about 
sixty  years  of  age. —  St.  Louis  Med.  and  Surg.  Jour.,  XLV, 
426,  1883. 

Cirrhosis  of  liver. —  St.  Louis  Med.  and  Surg.  Jour.,  XLV, 
t   537,  1883. 
Contribution  to  the  physiology  of  parturition,  illustrated  by  the 
history  of  a  case  of  labor  during  paralysis. —  St.  Louis  Med. 
and  Surg.  Jour.,  XLV,  549,  1883. 

A  successful  case  of  total  extirpation  of  the  uterus  through 
the  vagina. —  St.  Louis  Med.  and  Surg.  Jour.,  XLVI,  369, 
1884. 

The  uterotractor,  a  new  instrument. —  Weekly  Med.  Review 
(Chicago),  IX,  288,  1884. 

Six  cases  of  intrauterine  tumors. —  Weekly  Med.  Review  (Chi- 
cago), 347,  1884. 

Kolpohysterectomy ;  successful  cases  of  total  extirpation  of  the 
uterus  through  the  vagina,  with  epicritical  remarks  and  a 
description  of  the  author's  method  of  operating. —  St.  Louis 
Med.  and  Surg.  Jour.,  1885. 

A  case  of  cystic  tumor  in  the  jaw  of  a  negro,  and  some  new 
observations  on  the  pathological  histology  of  this  disease. — 
Medical  Record  (New  York),  XXVIII,  1,  1885. 

A  successful  case  of  ideal  cholecystotomy,  with  critical  re- 
marks on  the  pathology  and  the  different  operative  pro- 
cedures practiced  on  the  system  of  gall  vessels. —  Weekly 
Med.  Review  (Chicago),  XII,  351,  1885. 

The  indications  for  laparotomy  in  penetrating  stab  or  shot 
wounds  of  the  abdomen. —  New  York  Med.  Jour.,  January 
2,  1886;  Annals  of  Surgery  (St.  Louis),  III,  245,  1886. 

On  the  relations  between  cells  and  microorganisms. —  Jour. 
Am.  Med.  Assn.  (Chicago),  VI,  4,  1886. 

Ligation  of  the  vertebral  arteries ;  a  physiological  experiment 
on  the  human  subject. —  St.  Louis  Med.  and  Surg.  Jour.,  LI, 
77,  1886. 

303 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

Gastrotomy  for  the  removal  of  swallowed  knife;  recovery  of 

the  patient ;  with  illustrations. —  St.  Louis  Med.  and  Surg. 

Jour.,  LII,  9,  1887;   New  York  Med.  Record,   1886;  Med. 

News  (Philadelphia),  January  1,  1887;  Annals  of  Surgery, 

V,  124,  1887;  Berliner  Klin.  Woch.,  XXIV,  376,  1887. 
An   abnormal   pedunculated   lobulet   of  the  liver. —  St.   Louis 

Med.  and  Surg.  Jour.,  LII,  265,  1887. 
A  new  operative  procedure  intended  to  supplant  herniotomy. — 

St.  Louis  Med.  and  Surg.  Jour.,  LII,  269,  1887. 
Three  cases  of  total   excision  of  the  cancerous   tongue. —  St. 

Louis  Med.  and  Surg.  Jour.,  LIII,  333,  1887. 

A  case  of  vesico-vaginal  fistula ;  operation  during  pregnancy ; 
cure  without  abortion. —  Med.  Brief  (St.  Louis),  XV,  34, 
1887. 

Two  cases  of  false  joint  successfully  treated  by  the  bone  plastic 
and  suture,  with  experimental  notes. —  Med.  Brief  (St. 
Louis),  XV,  43,  1887. 

A  case  of  complete  transverse  section  of  the  Achilles  tendon 
by  the  sharp  edge  of  a  spade ;  operations  performed  to 
restore  its  continuity,  with  remarks  on  the  treatment  of 
injuries  to  tendons  in  general;  illustrated. —  Med.  Brief  (St. 
Louis),  XV,  221,  1887. 

Four  cases  of  craniotomy,  with  chisel  and  saw,  in  old  cases  of 
depressed  fracture  of  the  skull;  with  some  remarks  on  the 
antiseptic  method  of  the  treatment  of  wounds. —  Med.  Brief 
(St.  Louis),  XV,  261,  1887. 

A  case  of  pylorectomy  with  rare  complications ;  historical 
and  critical  remarks  and  conclusions. —  Med.  Brief  (St. 
Louis),  XV,  301,  1887. 

Clinical  report  of  cases  operated  on  by  A.  C.  Bernays ;  re- 
ported by  W.  V.  Kingsbury. —  Inter.  Med.  and  Surg.  Synop- 
sis, 1887. 

A  new  surgical  operation  for  the  treatment  of  cancer  of  the 
stomach. —  Annals  of  Surgery,  VI,  450,  1887. 

A  unique  case  of  neurectomy  of  three  divisions  of  the  trigemi- 
nus at  one  sitting ;  recovery. —  Inter.  Jour,  of  Surgery 
(New  York),  I,  10,  1888. 

Letter  from  Berlin,  April  8,  1888.—  St.  Louis  Med.  and  Surg. 
Jour.,  LIV,  290,  1888. 

3°4 


Bibliography 

Letter  from  Hamburg,  May  5,  1888. —  St.  Louis  Med.  and 
Surg.  Jour.,  LIV,  345,  1888. 

The  origin  of  the  foramen  caecum  linguae,  as  shown  by  an 
operation  on  a  rare  tumor  of  the  root  of  the  tongue ;  a  pre- 
liminary note. —  St.  Louis  Med.  and  Surg.  Jour.,  LV,  201, 
1888. 

A  case  of  nephrolithiasis;  nephrotomy,  nephrectomy,  death. — 
St.  Louis  Med.  and  Surg.  Jour.,  LVI,  137,  1889. 

A  successful  case  of  nephrectomy. —  Inter.  Jour,  of  Surgery 
(New  York),  II,  258,  1889. 

The  principle  which  governs  our  treatment  of  wounds;  a  re- 
sume of  our  knowledge  up  to  the  present  time. —  St.  Louis 
Clinique,  III,  1889-1890. 

Ectopic  pregnancy;  laparotomy;  recovery. —  St.  Louis  Clinique, 
III,  102,  1890. 

Two  cases  of  ectopic  gestation  cured  by  abdominal  section. — 
Kansas  City  Med.  Index,  XI,  193,  1890;  Am.  Practitioner 
and  News  (Louisville),  IX,  410,  1890;  Deutsche  Med. 
Woch.  (Leipzig),  XVI,  687,  1890. 

Campho-phenique  vs.  iodoform ;  a  practical  note. —  Med.  Mir- 
ror (St.  Louis),  I,  68,  1890. 

Five  consecutive  cases  of  gunshot  wounds  of  the  abdominal 
viscera  treated  by  laparotomy;  two  deaths  and  three  re- 
coveries ;  suggestions  on  the  technic  and  after-treatment. 
("Chips  from  a  surgeon's  workshop.") — St.  Louis  Med. 
and  Surg.  Jour.,  LVIII,  329,  1890;  Lancet  (London),  II, 
556,  1890;  Berliner  klin.  Woch.,  XXVII,  708,  1890. 

The  history  of  and  remarks  on  a  successful  case  of  nephro- 
lithotomy.—  St.  Louis  Clinique,  IV,  108,  1891. 

Some  points  in  the  management  of  complicated  laparotomies. 

—  St.  Louis  Med.  and  Surg.  Jour.,  LX,  265,  1891 ;  Weekly 
Med.  Review  (St.  Louis),  XXIII,  421,  1891. 

A  case  of  myxo-fibro-sarcoma  of  the  axilla. —  Weekly  Med. 
Review  (St.  Louis),  XXIV,  282,  1891. 

Case  of  fibro-myxo-chondro-osteosarcoma  of  branchial  origin. 

—  Weekly  Med.  Review   (St.  Louis),  XXVIII,  501,   1893; 
St.  Louis  Courier  of  Med.,  X,  1,  1894. 

Sphincteropoesis ;  improvements  and  suggestions  in  regard  to 
the  operation  of  colotomy. —  Mathews'  Med.  Quarterly 
(Louisville),  I,  66,  1894. 

305 


Augustus  Charles  Bernays 

General  septic  peritonitis  from  perforation  of  the  vermiform 
appendix;  laparotomy  after  fifty- four  hours,  followed  by 
recovery. —  Med.  Mirror  (St.  Louis),  V,  393,  1894;  Char- 
lotte (N.  C.)  Med.  Jour.,  V,  506,  1894. 

Pelvic  abscess. —  Trans.  Pan-Am.  Med.  Congress,  I,  1050,  1893. 

Appendicitis. —  Trans.  Pan-Am.  Med.  Congress,  I,  1102,  1893. 

Gunshot  wounds  of  abdomen. —  Ibid.,  p.  698. 

The  first  successful  case  of  Csesarean  section  in  placenta  previa 
and  remarks  on  the  method  of  operation. —  Jour.  Am.  Med. 
Assn.  (Chicago),  XXII,  687,  1894. 

Report  of  a  Surgical  Clinic  (illustrated),  complimentary  to  the 
visiting  members  of  the  Mississippi  Valley  Medical  Asso- 
ciation.—  St.  Louis,  20  pp.,  8vo.,  1895. 

Osteoplasty  for  the  relief  of  symptoms  consequent  on  hernia 
of  the  brain  resulting  from  fracture  of  the  skull,  with  loss 
of  bone.— Med.  Record  (New  York),  XLVII,  398,  1895  5 
Report  of  a  Surgical  Clinic,  vide  supra. 

Lymphosarcoma  of  the  neck;  enormous  dilatation  of  the  jugu- 
lar vein. —  Report  of  a  Surgical  Clinic,  vide  supra. 

Neurectomy  of  the  second  and  third  branches  of  the  fifth  nerve 
for  cure  of  chronic  facial  neuralgia  (tic-douloureux)  of 
two  years'  standing;  result,  recovery. —  St.  Louis  Courier 
of  Med.,  XII,  51,  1895;  St.  Louis  Med.  and  Surg.  Jour., 
LXVIIL,  90,  1895 ;  Report  of  a  Surgical  Clinic,  vide  supra. 

Nephrolithiasis ;  two  cases  operated  on  by  Dr.  A.  C.  Bernays ; 
reported  by  Willard  Bartlett. —  Annals  of  Surgery,  XXII, 
717,  1895. 

An  operation  for  the  relief  of  impermeable  occlusion  of  the 
esophagus  of  five  years'  standing,  with  dilatation  by  a  new 
method.  (A.  C.  Bernays  and  Howard  Carter.) — New 
York  Med.  Jour.,  LXI,  353,  1895. 

Introduction  to  "  Antisepsis  and  Antiseptics,"  by  Chas.  Milton 
Buchanan. —  The  Terhune  Company  (Newark,  N.  J.),  1895. 

A  case  of  hysterectomy  for  the  removal  of  an  enormously 
large  degenerated  and  suppurating  myoma ;  ureterostomy 
and  nephrectomy  on  the  same  patient,  with  recovery. —  Am. 
Jour.  Obstetrics  (New  York),  XXXI,  367,  1895. 

The  complete  method  of  operation  in  cases  of  cancer  of  the 
breast. —  St.  Louis  Courier  of  Med.,  XII,  1895. 

306 


Bibliography 

New  anastomosis  button  for  operation  on  the  intestine,  by  M. 
Chaput,  of  Paris.— Med.  Mirror  (St.  Louis),  VII,  51,  1896. 

Two  cases  of  primary  nephrectomy  in  wounds  of  the  kidney. — 
Inter.  Clinics  (Philadelphia),  6th  series,  II,  240,  1896. 

A  case  of  excision  of  both  upper  jaws,  of  both  molars,  of  both 
palatines,  of  both  nasals,  of  both  inferior  turbinates,  of 
both  ethmoids,  of  the  vomer,  of  the  left  lachrymal,  and  of  a 
portion  of  the  pterygoid  process  of  the  sphenoid,  for  the 
removal  of  a  recurrent  osteochondroma. —  Med.  Record 
(New  York),  XLIX,  443,  1896;  Revue  Internat.  de  Rhinolo- 
gie,  Otologie  et  Laryngologie  (Paris),  VI,  283,  1896. 

My  recent  work  in  appendicectomy. —  Med.  Record  (New 
York),  LIII,  478,  1898;  St.  Louis  Med.  and  Surg.  Jour., 
LXIII,  322,   1897. 

The  history  and  diagnosis  of  a  case  of  carcinoma  of  the 
stomach  and  the  first  operation  of  excision  of  the  stomach 
in  America.  (Hugo  Summa  and  A.  C.  Bernays). —  Jour. 
Am.  Med.  Assn.  (Chicago),  XXX,  341,  1898. 

Extirpation  of  a  very  large  goiter  of  thirty-five  years'  growth. 

—  St.  Louis  Med.  Gazette,  I,  45,  1898. 

The  pathology  and  therapy  of  cancer,  with  special  reference 
to  cancer  of  the  stomach. —  New  York  Med.  Jour.,  LXX, 
653,  698,  1899;  Philadelphia  Med.  Jour.,  November  11,  18, 
25,  1899. 

Some  points  in  practical  abdominal  surgery. —  Railway  Surgeon 
(Chicago),  VI,  445,  1900. 

How  to  prevent  and  how  to  treat  ununited  fractures. —  Trans. 
Western  Surg,  and  Gynec.  Assn.,  44,  1899. 

Surgical  diseases  of  the  biliary  passages. —  Trans.  Western 
Surg,  and  Gynec.  Assn.,  38,  1899. 

Gastroenterostomy  in  carcinomatous  obstruction  of  the  pylorus. 

—  Trans.  Western  Surg,  and  Gynec.  Assn.,  183,  1899. 

On  ischemic  paralysis  and  contractures  of  muscles. —  St.  Louis 
Med.  and  Surg.  Jour.,  LXXVIII,  233,  1900;  Boston  Med. 
and  Surg.  Jour.,  CXLII,  539,  1900;  Jour.  Am.  Med.  Assn. 
(Chicago),  XXXIV,  1439. 

Abdominal  section  for  pus  tubes. —  Am.  Jour,  of  Surg,  and 
Gynec.   (St.  Louis),  XIV,  86,  1901. 

307 


Augustus  Charles  Bcrnays 

Surgical  and  pathological  observations  on  epityphlitic  abscess. 
—  Trans.  Western  Surg,  and  Gynec.  Assn.,  224,  1900 ;  Am. 
Jour,  of  Surg,  and  Gynec.  (St.  Louis),  119,  1901 ;  Western 
Med.  Review,  VI,  210,  1901. 

The  pathology  and  etiology  of  prostatic  hypertrophy ;  supra- 
pubic drainage  and  myomectomy  considered  as  methods  of 
treatment  and  cure. —  Trans.  Western  Surg,  and  Gynec. 
Assn.,  155,  1901 ;  Med.  News  (New  York),  February  22, 
1902;  Virginia  Semi-Monthly  (Richmond),  February  15, 
1902;  Western  Med.  Review,  July  15,  1902;  Interstate  Med. 
Jour.,  IX,  51;  Jour.  Am.  Med.  Assn.,  XXXVIII,  672. 

Uterine  fibroids. —  Trans.  Western  Surg,  and  Gynec.  Assn., 
no,  1901  (Chicago  meeting). 

Myomectomy  and  partial  prostatectomy  as  a  method  of  treating 
enlarged  prostate;  a  pathological  study  of  the  object. — 
Am.  Jour.  Dermatology  and  Genito-Urinary  Diseases  (St. 
Louis),  VI,  101,  1902. 

Sarcoma  of  the  mesentery. —  Annals  of  Surgery,  XXXV,  790, 
1902. 

Adenocarcinoma  of  the  liver  and  stomach. —  Annals  of  Sur- 
gery, XXXV,  832,  1902. 

Prompt  operation  in  the  beginning  will  save  nearly  all  cases  of 
appendicitis. —  Trans.  Western  Surg,  and  Gynec.  Assn.,  215, 
1902. 

Old  irreducible  dislocation  of  the  shoulder-joint. —  Trans. 
Western  Surg,  and  Gynec.  Assn.,  124,  1902. 

Some  moot  points  about  appendicitis. —  Am.  Jour.  Surg,  and 
Gynec.  (St.  Louis),  XVI,  164,  1902-3. 

Expectant  treatment  of  appendicitis  ;  an  excursion  into  the  field 
between  surgery  and  medicine.—  St.  Louis  Med.  Review, 
February   11,   1905;   Med.   News    (New  York),   LXXXVI, 

337.  I905- 

The  preliminary  training  of  a  surgeon. —  Am.  Jour,  of  Surg. 
(New  York),  XX,  75,  1906. 

Lipoma  of  the  mesentery,  twisted  on  its  axis  and  producing 
gangrene  and  perforation  of  the  ileum,  simulating  acute 
perforative  appendicitis. —  Personal  communication  to  How- 
ard A.  Kelly,  and  published  by  him  in  his  "  The  Vermiform 
Appendix  and  Its  Diseases,"  420,  1905. 

308 


Bibliography 

Peritoneal  infections  without  pus ;  bacteriological  examination 
of  secretions. —  Personal  communication  to  Howard  A. 
Kelly,  ibid.,  627. 

Sarcoma  of  the  appendix. —  Personal  communication  to  How- 
ard A.  Kelly,  ibid.,  759. 

A  visit  to  the  Mayos  at  Rochester,  Minn. —  St.  Louis  Med.  Re- 
view, April  14,  1906;  New  York  Med.  Jour.,  LXXXIII,  808, 
1906. 

Golden  Rules  of  Surgery. —  C.  V.  Mosby  Medical  Book  Com- 
pany, St.  Louis,  1906. 


3°9 


COLOMBIA  UNIVB^T  ^ 

™is  b,U'\-    ;  definite  pe««>  *  "£,   speeial   a«anga 

provided    W  ,uMK.  _ =======\        n.TE  °uE 


provided      .  e 

thelA^JlL 


C28(955)10"W>1- 


"^.\5>c-^x§- 


^y^s" 


